The Apocalypse is upon Us
by Redheadlass
Summary: Jessie tries to deal with her goddess during the apocalypse that Sam unleashed. Episode 4 is completed. Takes place in Season 5, so spoilers for that season. Spanking.
1. Chapter 1 - Devil's Workshop

I was worried to death about Sam and Dean. Sam had escaped Bobby's panic room and sought out the demon, Ruby, anxious for some demon blood and hot to stop Lilith from breaking the final seal. Dean had gone after him and gotten into a huge fight with Sam, who left when Dean told him that if he walked out the door he could never come back. Bobby'd almost talked Dean into trying to work something out with his brother, but then Dean had disappeared. The next time we'd heard anything that we thought might be related to them or the final seal was when there was an explosion at a convent in Ilchester, Maryland. We saw that on television, and we couldn't be sure it was them, but we thought it probably was.

Bobby made me go to bed even though I was worried, and I thought I wouldn't get any sleep at all, but after a long time lying in Bobby's bed, crying, and staring at the shadows of paint flecks on his ceiling, I eventually fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion. Bobby let me sleep myself out. When I finally woke up, I slipped out of Bobby's rumpled bed and headed downstairs expecting to find him sleeping on the couch. The old clock on the wall in the kitchen said it was eight a.m., and Bobby wasn't on the couch. I did a quick search around the living room and dining room. Since I didn't hear him moving around upstairs, I called down into the basement, and when no answer came, I pulled my shoes on over my bare feet, pulled a coat on over my pajamas and went outside.

I found Bobby at the front of the salvage yard loading bags of charcoal into the Impala. Shivering as a cold gust of wind blew through my thin pajama pants, I clutched the coat around me and strode over to lean against the side of the car.

"Bobby?" I asked as he came up out of the trunk and saw me. "What's going on?"

Without pausing, Bobby bent to pick up another bag of charcoal from the ground. "Got a call from Dean," he said. "Both he and Sam are ok. He wants us to drive towards Baltimore and deliver his car." He settled the bag of charcoal in the trunk and closed it.

My eyes got wide. "They're ok? Really?"

"That's what I said, ain't it?" Bobby asked, brushing his hands off and tilting the brim of his hat back.

I screamed in excitement and started bouncing around the car, thrilled, relieved, and suddenly full of energy with no idea what to do with it. "Oh, Bobby! That's awesome! I've got to call Dean and get the whole story from him! I can't believe it!"

"Whoa, girl," Bobby said gruffly. "Stop bouncing off the walls." I bounded over to him, a huge, uncontrollable grim splitting my face. I could tell he wasn't actually annoyed because the corners of his mouth were twitching when I landed solidly in front of him.

"When are we leaving?" I asked breathlessly.

"Soon as you get your butt in the house and get your stuff packed," Bobby grumbled, still fighting that grin, but he didn't have to say anything else. I took off for the house as fast as my half-tied shoes would let me. "Be careful, kid, or you'll fall on your face!" Bobby called after me.

Twenty minutes later, I was dressed and packed, making sure to grab the stake from Stelmužė Oak that had been delivered from Lithuania. I'd even made Bobby's bed. He wasn't back in the house yet, so I hoisted my bag and headed out to the car. It was warming up nicely out. Bobby had the hood open and was checking the engine when I got back to him. He reminded me that Dean's stuff was still inside, so I left my bag with him and went to pack Dean's stuff up. By the time I got back out to the car with Dean's bag and the Sam's laptop bag, it was almost nine. It had taken me longer to find Dean's stuff and I was antsy to get on the road.

Luckily, so was Bobby. He had the car running, so I tossed Dean's stuff in the back seat and climbed into the front, and we were off.

The minute we hit the road, I pulled out my cell phone and called Dean. He answered with a gruff and hopeful, "Jessie?"

"Hi, Dean," I said in a little voice.

"Hi, sweetheart." His voice softened. "You with Bobby?"

"We're on our way. We just left Bobby's house. Bobby said that it's going to take us eighteen hours to get to Baltimore…"

"We're headed to Chuck's house right now, see if we can find Cas," Dean said. "I'll let you know where we end up, but you can aim in that direction."

I swallowed hard. "I miss you, Dean. It scared me to death when you just disappeared."

"I didn't want to leave, believe me," Dean said. "The angels took me." Dean went on to explain that he'd ended up in an angelic "green room" that was done up like a palace and had art all over the walls. Then Cas had shown up and got him out of there, transporting him first to Chuck's so they could find out where Sam was and then to the convent where Sam was to try to stop him. Dean hadn't been able to, but had burst in after Sam had killed Lilith, although not before the final seal has been broken. Then the two of them killed Ruby, who had been lying to Sam the entire time, and then something weird had happened and they'd just disappeared and ended up on a plane.

I had the phone on speaker at this point so that Bobby could hear, too, and I looked at Bobby. He just shrugged. "Who got you out?" I asked.

"We don't know, sweetheart. Sam thinks maybe angels…"

"Ok," I said, unsure of what else to say. The relief that they were both alive was so huge I didn't know how to express it. "Sam's ok?"

Dean paused. "Far as I can tell," he said stiffly. "Listen, sweetheart, I've gotta go. I'll call you or Bobby when we get settled."

"In the meantime, we'll head east," I said. "I love you, Dean."

"I love you, too."

"Will you tell Sam I love him?" I asked.

"I will. Bye, kiddo."

We hung up and I looked at Bobby. We drove until night fell, stopping for meals and bathroom breaks. At around nine, Bobby declared that he needed some sleep and Dean could wait until the next day for his precious car. I pouted but it wasn't like I could drive and I could tell Bobby was exhausted. We checked into the next motel we found, Bluebell Inn, and Bobby set me up to burn the charcoal he'd brought. I got ready for bed and when I came out, Bobby was pouring himself a tumbler of whiskey from a beat up old flask he had. I pulled the blue bedspread back on one of the beds as he took a swig from the tumbler.

"Why have you and Dean been drinking so much, Bobby?" I asked quietly when he set the tumbler down.

Bobby screwed the lid back on the flask and set it next to the glass. He looked uncomfortable. "Never mind that," he grumbled at me. "I'm an old man. You need anything before you go to bed?"

I shook my head and climbed into bed as he went to the room door. "Where are you going?" I asked.

"Get something else to drink," Bobby mumbled, red faced, and left the room. I frowned, confused, and looked at the glass on the table. No one had ever told me I couldn't drink. That's not entirely true. It just hadn't really come up. When I was kid, my parents would let me taste their wine, like a drop on my lips, but I didn't like that and so I didn't ask any more. I'd never asked Sam or Dean to try their beer or their drinks, and I'd never been tempted by it. Bobby's reaction made no sense to me. It was like he was ashamed of his drinking, but adults drank. I was confused.

I turned off the light next to my bed, chewing on my lip. The base was silver and thin, and the lamp shade was a giant blue square. At least when the light was off, I couldn't see the horrible lattice and blue flower wallpaper any more. What was it with inns named after flowers trying to make their rooms look like gardens? It was a bad idea. They ended up looking like fussy Victorian tea rooms. Blech. The room was far from dark with my light off. There was still the light over the table by the wall across from my bed and the light in the sink area. I put my head on the pillow, watching the door for Bobby's return.

I must've been more tired than I thought because I fell asleep, waking when I heard the key in the door. I sat up to see Bobby coming in with a two sodas and a bottle of water. "Where'd you go? Texas?" I joked.

He scowled at me. "I went for a walk, trying to figure how to answer your question, missy," he snapped. Stung, I closed my mouth, the smile melting off my face as he set the cans and bottle on the table. Then he slid his cap off and dropped it on the table next to them.

"Sorry," I mumbled. I glanced at his cap on the table. It struck me as a little weird. I'd only seen Bobby without a cap when he was pretending to be FBI on a hunt and he couldn't wear one and when he was sound asleep in an actual bed.

He turned and got a good look at my face, then rolled his eyes and sighed. "It's not you; it's me," he said. "Look, adults don't always drink 'cause they like the taste of alcohol. Sometimes they drink 'cause they've seen too much and it's done a job on their heads." He swirled his finger around his ear. "It's a way to handle the pain, to be able to sleep at night. I've seen too much. You'll understand when you get older."

I thought of Gabby and the fire and all the kids I burned and the girls who'd died and everything that had happened to me since I woke up and my house was on fire. I blanched a little. "I think I understand now," I muttered.

"Go to sleep now," Bobby said. "In the morning, we'll finish off the drive and find Sam and Dean."

"Ok, Bobby," I said. I closed my eyes and tried to obey, but it was impossible. It was another one of those nights, where my head was going too fast and every time I tried to fall asleep, I saw fire and burned girls and Jack Montgomery. I wondered if I would ever forget his name. It was as stenciled into my memory as each of the girls Gabby had killed when I wouldn't serve her, and each of the kids and teachers who had died in the school fire. So I tried to sleep and failed over and over. After jerking out of sleep for the fifteenth time by a bad dream, I sat up in the dark room. Bobby was curled up on his bed, fully dressed. He looked sound asleep. I considered trying to crawl into bed with him, but I didn't want to wake him after he'd snapped at me earlier, unsure of my welcome. Sam and Dean's clothes were out in the car and Bobby had the keys somewhere. I didn't want to go looking for them and possibly wake him either.

The things Bobby had said earlier had seared themselves into my brain. My eyes were drawn to the leather-bound flask sitting next to the empty tumbler on the table. Bobby had said that it helped him sleep at night. I glanced over at him, pretty sure he wouldn't approve, and then slid out of bed. I padded over to the rickety white table and poured a tiny amount of whiskey into the tumbler, not even enough to cover the bottom of the glass. Then I brought it to my lips and drank the amber liquid.

The scent was overwhelming and took my breath away, burning my lungs. I fought against gasping, not wanting that terrible stuff down my lungs, and swallowed hard. It burned all the way down into my stomach. Even after I swallowed it, it took a second for my lungs to stop burning enough that I could breathe. I gasped in air and set the glass down on the table with a clatter. There was noise behind me, and I whirled around certain I was caught. Bobby hadn't moved, though. Still in the exact same position even though I was sure I'd made enough noise to wake him. Thankful for my luck, I fought against coughing long enough to make it to my bed and bury my face in the pillow before choking.

When I was breathing easily again, I realized that the burning in my throat had stopped and now there was a warmth in my middle that hadn't been there before and I was starting to feel so very comfortable. My eyes felt heavy. I pulled the blanket up over me and rolled over with my eyes closed. Right before I went to sleep, I glanced at Bobby again through slitted eyes. Before they fluttered closed again of their own volition, I thought that I saw that he had turned over and was watching me. I thought about opening my eyes again to check, but my sleep fogged brain told me that I had nothing to worry about. If he'd seen me, he'd be hauling me out of bed right now, not letting me go to sleep. I let go of the thought and drifted off to an astonishingly dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2 - Moments of Doubt and Pain

Bobby woke me up the next morning by shaking my bed. "Up and at 'em, kid. We need to get on the road."

I rolled over with a groan and sat up, still oddly groggy. I felt the way I often felt when I was sick and Dean made me take NyQuil. I yawned hard enough that my jaw cracked and climbed out of bed. I glanced at Bobby, who was shoving clothes into a backpack, and remembered that I thought I'd seen him looking at me right before I fell asleep last night, but I wasn't sure. He wasn't acting like anything was up, and he'd've been all over me this morning if he'd noticed that I'd been drinking his whiskey, I thought. Maybe it had just been my imagination. I grabbed my backpack and headed into the bathroom to get dressed.

We were on the road fifteen minutes later. I bugged Bobby until he pulled into a fast food restaurant to get us breakfast. He was oddly quiet this morning, although I guess he didn't talk all that much normally. Nervous, I picked at my breakfast sandwich and ran last night through my head again. Now that I thought about it, he'd definitely seen me, because he'd been facing the wall when I got in bed and he'd been facing me when I'd looked at him. His eyes had been open and dark with shadow, unless those shadows had been over his lids…

I peeked at him. He was focused on the road and wasn't talking much. He'd skipped his morning joe. I couldn't take it any more. "Everything ok, Bobby?" I asked, trying to sound firm and calm.

He glanced down at me. "Yeah, kid. Why?"

"Um, well, you just… you didn't have your morning coffee and you're not talking all that much…" I trailed off, uncertain what to say.

He smiled at me. "Just anxious to deliver this car to Sam and Dean so I can get back home," he said.

"Ok," I said, still unsure, but it didn't seem like he was mad at me. He wasn't even grumbling at me as much as he normally did. I decided that I'd imagined the shadows and that my secret was safe. I pulled my PSP out of my backpack to while away the hours until we got to the hotel.

We'd been on the road for a couple of hours when Bobby's phone rang. It was Dean. Bobby talked to him for a little bit, had me write down the address of the hotel they were staying in, and then put Dean on speaker phone while Dean told us about this chick who'd shown up on their doorstep earlier this morning. Chuck had called her because he knew she was in the city that Sam and Dean were in. He'd had a vision and needed to get the message to the guys, but hadn't had any other way to contact them that couldn't be traced. So he'd called her. She'd shown up at the hotel they were in with great googly eyes for Sam and had told Dean that Dean was not what she'd pictured. Anyway, she'd delivered the message, that the Michael sword was on earth, the angels had lost it. It was in a castle on a hill made of 42 dogs. Dean wanted to know if Bobby knew anything about the Michael sword.

"Not much," Bobby said. "But I brought a bunch of books about angels. There's probably something in one of them."

"How far out are you?" Dean asked.

"Couple more hours and we should be there," Bobby said.

"Well step on it," Dean said. "If I was driving, I'd've been here by now."

"You ain't as old as me, boy," Bobby said. "You don't need your beauty sleep." He flipped the phone closed.

By the time we reached the city, I was practically dancing, and when Bobby pulled into an empty spot by the front door, before the car even came to a complete stop, I had the car door open and was bounding up into the building.

"Hey, kid," Bobby called after me. "Slow the hell down! You'll trip and knock yourself into next week." I rolled my eyes, but slowed down, a little. I raced through the hallways until I found the door with 35 on it. I pounded on it until Dean opened it.

"Dean!' I screeched. I threw myself into his arms and hugged him with all my might. He hugged me back hard and put me on my feet as Bobby came up behind me. I flung myself into Sam's arms next as Bobby and Dean exchanged a hug.

"Sam!" I exclaimed. "I'm so glad you're ok. I was so worried." I pulled back from him. "You are ok, right?" I asked, chewing my lower lip in worry. "Like, really ok?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "All cleaned up."

I let out a tight sigh and hugged him again. When I let go of him, Bobby hugged him next. I moved next to Dean, who put his arm around me and held me there. I felt like I was home. While the three of them talked about the Michael sword and went to get the bags and books out of the car so that they could see what the Michael sword looked like, I took my coat off and poked around the room. This one was a little weird. The room was split into two levels, the beds were on the lower level and a table and mini kitchen was on the upper one. The walls were covered in wallpaper with a confusing, almost psychedelic design in these horrible gold, green, and tan colors. The pattern looked like paired sets of squiggly brackets stacked on top of each other and echoing from the ceiling to the floor. The beds were covered with knobbly brown bedspreads. The room wasn't too clean either. I kinda didn't want to touch anything.

When they came back, they dumped a pile of old books on one of the beds. Bobby dug one of them out and carried it up to the table, flipping through it until he found the picture he wanted. I slipped into a chair to look while Dean paced around the table. Bobby said that Michael was the toughest of all the angels. He commands the heavenly host and was the one who kicked Lucifer out of heaven with the sword that he was wielding in the pictures. If we could find it, we could use it to defeat Lucifer again. Sam asked where we should start and Bobby said that we start reading and try to make sense of the message Chuck sent, only Bobby called it "Chuck's nonsense."

Sam got up and started towards the books on the bed while I pulled the book over to me to look at the pictures of Michael. I didn't notice anything weird was going on until Bobby said, "Kid? You all right?" I looked up. Sam was staring at the books on the bed, and he turned to face us. He looked like he was about to cry. He started telling Bobby that he wasn't ok, that this whole situation was his fault. Dean tried to interrupt him, his voice angry and impatient, but Sam wouldn't stop. Sam said that Lilith didn't break the final seal, that she was the final seal. My heart broke for him. I got out of my chair and went to him, hugging him around the waist. His arms closed around me as he said that he killed Lilith and set Lucifer free.

Bobby was furious. Sam said that they warned him about Ruby and the demon blood, but he didn't listen and that he brought this on. I buried my head in Sam's stomach, and his arms around me tightened. I heard Bobby's chair scrape back and his footsteps as he got closer. Bobby said that Sam was reckless, selfish, and arrogant. Sam's grip on me loosened and he said he was sorry, regret and sadness in his voice. Bobby came down the step, put his hands on my shoulders, and tugged. I reluctantly let go of Sam and stepped to the side. Bobby got right in Sam's face, looking up at him.

"Oh, yeah? You're sorry you started Armageddon?" Bobby asked, angrier than I'd ever heard him. "This kind of thing don't get forgiven, boy. If, by some miracle, we pull this off...I want you to lose my number. You understand me?"

"Bobby!" I objected with tears in my eyes, but Sam nodded resignedly and Dean didn't protest. "Bobby, no!" I said again, grabbing Bobby's arm, but he ignored me.

"Jessie," Dean said gruffly. I looked at him and he gestured for me to come to him up by the table. I hesitated, looking back at Sam, but Sam wouldn't meet my eyes.

Unhappily, I let go of Bobby's arm and went to Dean as Sam said, with tears in his eyes, "There's an old church nearby. Maybe I'll go read some of the lore books there."

"Yeah," Bobby said. "You do that."

"I can go with you," I offered, wanting to go with him and make him feel better. I understood a little of what he was going through.

"No," Dean said, his voice sharp. I looked up at him. He was so mad. Bobby was so mad. Sam looked like he was about to break into a million pieces. I fought against the tears in my own eyes and Sam left the room, his head down. Bobby looked back at us and Dean just glowered. The two of them went to the pile of books on the bed.

I stood in indecision for a couple of seconds. It made no sense. Bobby was always talking about forgiveness and family. I set my chin. I didn't care whether or not Sam had started the apocalypse. He was my family and I wasn't kicking him out. People make mistakes. Heaven knew I made them all the time! Decision made, I stepped down and headed towards the room's door, grabbing my coat on the way.

I had the door open before either of them noticed me. Dean snapped out, "Where do you think you're going?"

"With Sam," I shot back, my temper up. "I'm not letting him go off alone like that. You're all mean to make him!" Before he could answer, I shut the door and ran after Sam. I was down the hall before the door opened. I heard Dean call after me, but I ignored him. I knew I would pay for that later, but I couldn't abandon Sam. I pelted down the stairs and caught up to Sam on the sidewalk in front of the hotel.

Sam heard my feet on the pavement and turned before I got to him. He looked like he'd gotten himself under control a bit. I flung myself at him so hard that he stumbled, and I wrapped my arms around his waist. "Jessie, what are you doing here?"

"I'm coming with you," I said, twisting my head so I was looking up at him. "I'm going to help you research at the church. I don't care what Bobby said. I still love you and I forgive you."

Sam closed his eyes for a second, his face easing the smallest amount. When he opened his eyes again, he said, "Ok, but you better text Dean and tell him that you found me and I'm taking you with me to the church."

I let go of Sam and pulled the cell phone out of my pocket obediently. "Ok," I said, flipping it open and pressing buttons as we walked. "Wouldn't it be better if it came from you, though?" I asked.

Sam snorted. "I don't think either of them wants to hear from me right now," he said, dropping an arm around my shoulder and steering me as I typed.

We spent hours at the church and didn't leave until it closed. I helped Sam research where I could, but I had almost no grasp of Latin. Sam promised that he'd start teaching me and in the meantime let me go through the books that were in English. I'm not sure how much Sam was actually reading because half the time when I looked at him, he was lost in thought, his eyes glazed even as he stared at the tomes. I left him to his thoughts and hoped that his thoughts didn't torment him the way mine tormented me sometimes, but I guessed that probably everyone suffered from that.

When we finally left the church, it was dark out. I grabbed Sam's giant hand with my small one and smiled at him. He gave me a reassuring half-smile back, but it faltered into sadness after not too long. I didn't say anything. What could I say? We walked back to the hotel in silence, the heat from his hand keeping mine warm. I hoped that I made him feel at least a little better, a little less alone.

When we got to our hallway, we could hear the sounds of fighting from one of the rooms. Sam dropped my hand. "Stay here," he ordered and took off down the hallway at a full run. I obeyed, stepping back to put my back against the wall, watching as he sprinted down the hallway and shoved the door open.

"No," he hollered and then ran into the room. I heard the sound of an old telephone hitting something.

A woman's voice leaked into the hall, intertwined with the sounds of fighting. "Heya, Sammy. You miss me? 'Cause I sure missed you."

"Meg," Sam said derisively.

I couldn't see into the room from my vantage point and I wanted to go help more than anything, but these were demons and there wasn't a whole lot I could do but get myself hurt or killed. That had been drilled into me more times than I could count at this point, and Meg was a bad one. She was the one who used to work for Azazel and had kept tabs on Sam after he'd left Stanford to look for his dad with Dean. Despite how bad I wanted to help, I stayed put.

"It's not so easy without those super-special demon powers, huh, Sammy?" Meg asked, her voice almost buried beneath the sounds of fist and feet hitting flesh. The sounds of fighting started to die, and then Meg screamed.

"Jessie!" Sam hollered. I came running and got to the room in time to see Sam and Dean hoisting Bobby up between them to carry him out.

"What happened?" I asked in shock.

"Help us," Dean said. "We've got to get him to this hospital." I shut up and helped. I opened doors and pressed buttons and made the way easier. They put Bobby in the back seat of the car and I climbed into the back with him and pressed a towel over the wound, trying to keep him from losing too much blood.

"What happened, Dean?" I asked again when the car was moving.

"He was possessed by one of Meg's demons. I don't know when it happened. The demon tried to kill me and Bobby broke through at the last second and stabbed himself instead," Dean said.

"Oh, god," I whispered. I remembered how Bobby had been short with me the night before when he came back with the sodas, how he hadn't really acted like himself completely. It made sense. That was probably when he'd gotten possessed. So it had been the demon and not Bobby for all of those hours and I'd barely noticed. I swallowed hard and hoped we'd get him to the hospital on time.


	3. Chapter 3 - Chasing the Dragon

I waited obediently in the car while Sam and Dean took Bobby into the hospital. We'd parked right outside the emergency room so I watched while they carried him in. Once they got inside, I could only see Sam's head and Dean's slightly lower one above the crowd. I got glimpses through people as they hurried by and could see that they got Bobby on a gurney and were wheeling him away. Sam and Dean stayed there for just a second and then raced back out of the hospital.

"We're not staying?" I asked, leaning forward against the back of the front seat as Dean started it up.

"Demon heard where the sword is. No telling who knows now. We've got to get to it before they do," Dean said. He turned and put his arm over the back of the seat to back out of the spot we were in. "Put your seatbelt on," he snapped when he saw me.

Unfazed by his tone, I slid back and put it on as he drove out of the lot. "How far is it?" I asked.

"Upstate New York?" Dean asked. "Pretty far." Then he gunned it.

It took us a couple of hours to get there, the drive grim and silent, the tension between Sam and Dean palpable. I kept my mouth shut and through the window watched the trees flit by on a background of starry sky. It was beautiful, but all it did was make me feel worse and overall, insignificant. As we got closer, Sam started loading weapons. I started to relax a little, but then I turned and noticed that Bobby had left blood on the seat of the Impala. Bile rose in my throat as the street lights flashed across the brownish-red spot. I turned away, and as I did, weirdly, I realized that the dried spot was shaped like a dragon.

"Dean," I tried to say, but it came out in a whimper. "Bobby's blood's on the seat." It was the first thing that any of us had said in an hour.

Dean looked at me through the rearview mirror, his eyes worried. It wasn't until he spoke that I realized he was worried about me. "There's some rags under the front seat, sweetheart," he said. "You want to try to clean it up?" I nodded and bent to find the rags. They were under Dean's seat and shone bright white in the moonlight. When I sat up, everything went a little wavery. I looked down at the rags in my hand. They were shaking back and forth and it took me a second to realize that my hand was what was shaking. I looked up to find that Sam had turned around in his seat.

"You ok, honey?" he asked.

I swallowed hard, nodded, and fainted.

When I came to, I was stretched out across the back seat with my feet resting on the windowsill. Dean was still driving but Sam was leaning awkwardly over the back seat. I blinked up at him and went to sit up.

"Nope, stay there," Sam said, pressing a hand down on my chest.

"She ok?" Dean demanded, his voice hoarse.

"For the tenth time, she's fine, Dean," Sam said. "She just fainted."

"I'm fine," I said. "I can sit up."

"Humor me," Sam said. When he was sure I was going to do what he said, he removed his hand and slithered back into the front seat where he could sit normally.

I stared up at the ceiling and a thought occurred to me. Alarmed, I sat up and scooted over to Dean's side, my hand sliding across the black leather. I let out a sigh of relief. Sam had cleaned up the blood dragon.

I looked up to see Dean looking at me through the mirror. He must've been ok with what he saw because he growled at me. "Satisfied?" he asked. I nodded, my eyes huge. "Lie back down."

His tone brooked no argument, so I stretched back out on the seat, on my side this time so I could see the backs of their heads. "Sorry," I said.

"It's ok, sweetheart. Just stay there for a bit, ok? I don't want you to faint again."

"It was the blood," I objected weakly, not mentioning the dragon shape. "_Bobby's_ blood."

"Now the blood's gone," Sam said soothingly. "So just lie there and rest for a bit."

I did as I was told, closing my eyes. The rumble of the engine soothed me and before I knew it, I was asleep.

_Bobby's fist jerked back and punched forward, driving into Dean again and again. Dean hollered in pain, his face bloodying under Bobby's blows._

_"Don't," I screamed. "Stop!" I grabbed Bobby's arm and tried to make him stop. Bobby's head whipped around, his black eyes glaring at me, boring into my soul, but I didn't stop pulling on his arm. "Please!" I begged._

_"Seen too much," he growled at me.. "Only way to drown the pain." He shook his arm and I went flying across the room, hitting the wall and landing hard on my butt. I got to my feet and ran back towards him, but it was too late. He shoved Dean into the wall and pulled back his fist, but now there was a knife in it. He brought it down like he was going to stab Dean but at the last second, he stabbed himself, the knife going deep, deep into his gut._

_"No!" I screamed. "Bobby!" He let go of Dean and fell to the ground. I crawled to his still body on hands and knees. His eyes were brown again, full of pain. "Bobby," I whimpered, my hands covering the gaping hole in his stomach, pressing, holding him in. Bobby groaned and went still, the light left his eyes. "Bobby," I whimpered again. "No."_

_There was a nudging where my hands were pressed against his wound. A scrabbling, like little claws trying to get out. I moved my hands away. The edges of the knife wound fluttered and then split. One little red-brown, scaled claw slipped out, then another. Then all of a sudden, an entire miniature dragon pushed through. It stepped onto the horrid brown carpet and shook itself, little drops of blood flying everywhere, spattering me. The dragon tilted it's head at me and then leapt into the air, spread its leathery wings, and flew out the window and into the starry night sky._

I jerked awake. I was under my blanket in the Impala in the otherwise empty parking lot of Castle Storage. Sam and Dean were gone. I pushed the blanket off, sat up, and unlocked my door. My hand was on the door handle before I really stopped and considered. My head felt woozy and painful. I was in no shape to go after them and I was probably not supposed to. It's not like they'd told me to stay put, but I was pretty sure they wanted me out of this fight. If there had been any other option, they probably would have taken it. Hell, I bet that if they had had time to give me a proper cover story for why Bobby got stabbed, they would have left me at the hospital as his grandkid.

My hand dropped off the door handle and I relocked the door. I started crying, and once I started, I couldn't stop. I wasn't cut out for this. I was a kid for god's sake. Sure I could set fires, but that didn't really help. I didn't have enough training to do anything with what I had. It didn't help against demons. It didn't help against angels. I could fight, but I was still a kid, so too weak to fight without Sam and Dean's help. What use was I?

And everything I did ended in blood, fire, and heartache. Audra, Daina, Grazyna, Rasa, Vinnie…If I'd just allowed myself to become Gabby's priestess, if I'd just let her use me, they could have continued living their lives as they were. Instead, four were lost and one was beholden to the goddess I hated, all because I was too selfish to give in. I could have tried to figure out how to kill her once I'd accepted her instead of telling her to get lost and sacrificing all those other girls. And then Sister Grace and the kids at the school… Alice. Oh my god, Alice. I missed her so much, every day, even if our relationship had been based on me being a person that I wasn't. I had loved her.

What the hell was I doing? Why did I ever think I could be a hunter? Why did I ever think I could defeat Gabby? I couldn't even find her. It was useless. I was useless.

Tears fell and fell until I was choking into the blanket. My stomach was upset and I was dizzy. I tried to stop crying, but I couldn't. Bobby's words came to me, the ones I had heard from what I was now sure was the demon. "Seen too much." Well, it didn't matter. I HAD seen too much and I just wanted it to stop. I wanted to stop crying. I wanted to go back to sleep. I wanted there to be one place where I didn't have to face all this all the time. I wanted no dreams.

Still crying a little, I tossed the blanket aside and climbed clumsily over the front seat. I opened the glove box and pulled out a silver flask that Dean kept there, all the way in the back under some papers and a pistol. I unscrewed the top and took two gulps of the fiery liquid. It burned just as much, but since I knew to hold my breath this time, it wasn't as bad. I closed the flask back up and put it away, making sure to leave everything exactly as it had been, before crawling back into the back seat and pulling the blanket back over me again. I lay on the leather seat and reveled in the warmth flowing through me, relaxing my limbs, easing that tight knot that always was in my belly these days. After a few minutes, the knot was gone and I felt languid and loose. I smiled and then hiccuped, stretching my arms above me, out towards the ceiling.

I frowned. My arms were glowing, which meant I was glowing. I could see a faint outline against the cream-colored ceiling. That wasn't right. I'd set a fire yesterday. I shouldn't need to set one again. Turning my attention inward, I realized that my furnace wasn't completely closed. The lock was off, the latch was loose. I tightened the latch, put the lock back on and checked it again. I didn't want to set a fire. The whole point was to not set a fire, to not have to worry about the destruction.

The car was starting to feel spinny now. Last time I hadn't been awake this long. I don't think I drank as much last time either, a half a mouthful instead of two. That's ok. It would be ok. I rolled over onto my side and relaxed into the spin of the car. With my eyes closed, it was like being on a ride at an amusement park, like the one my dad took me to when I was eight with the teacups and the tilt-a-whirl. When I opened my eyes, everything came to an abrupt halt, so I closed them again.

I was almost asleep when I remembered that when Dean and Bobby had been drinking, the house had smelled like a distillery. I stayed awake long enough to roll down the window just a little, letting in the fresh smelling air from outside. Satisfied that I'd covered all the bases, I covered my head and fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4 - Promises and Problems

I opened my eyes to fuzzy darkness. The springs of the roll-away bed pressed into my back, so I was definitely in a hotel room. It was daytime, if the outline of bright sunlight around the curtains was any indication. I clenched my eyes tight and then opened them up wide in an attempt to encourage them to adjust faster, and when they finally did, I could see that were were back in the craphole where the demons had attacked. Sam and Dean were lumps on their mattresses and the clock on the nightstand between them shone 11:30 in bright red numerals.

When we'd left the room the night before, demon bodies had littered the floor. They were gone now, and the blood was cleaned up. The only evidence that the fight had even happened was that the banister was still broken between the upper part of the room with the table and the little kitchen and lower part of the room with the beds. Either Dean or Sam would probably fix that today before we checked out. Although I wasn't sure we would check out since Bobby was at St. Martin's Hospital and we didn't know when he'd get out.

I slid out of bed and headed into the bathroom, purple duffel in hand. My head hurt a little this morning and my stomach was just a touch upset, probably from the whiskey I'd had the night before. I felt a little guilty. I'd slept like a rock. I hadn't woken up when they'd gotten back in the car at the storage place, when they'd driven back here, when they'd carried me up the stairs and put me to bed, or when they'd cleaned up the place. I'd slept in a stupor through all of it. I hadn't helped at all.

But I hadn't had any dreams. No nightmares, no dreams about hunting, no blood, no dragons, and no burning parents, girls, or nuns. Weighed against that it almost seemed worth it, maybe just this once. I promised myself that I wouldn't do it all the time, just when Sam or Dean weren't around for me to sleep with, and then I'd only drink a little, tiny bit, just enough to keep the dreams at bay. Maybe just one gulp. That way I'd be able to wake up and help them when they needed it.

I took a shower, standing under the lazy spray of the low-pressure shower head long after I was clean and until the water started to cool. I turned my head up unto the cooling flow and drank until my mouth and throat were no longer parched. When I left the bathroom, clean, dry, and dressed in my workout clothes, the guys were still unmoving lumps and the clock between them beds read 12:30. I didn't think I'd ever spent that long in the shower in my life. At least I felt better.

I slid the duffel under the bed and moved towards the door to the room. In the faint light from the windows, I could make out a line of salt blocking the threshold. I paused and chewed my lip. If I opened it now, I'd break the line and leave the guys sleeping and defenseless. They didn't always block the doors and windows with salt, so they must've done this for a reason.

"Jessie," Dean groaned from the bed, his voice pitched low. "What are you doing?"

I turned. Dean was still a lump on his bed. He hadn't moved. If he hadn't spoken, I would never have known he was awake. "Training," I whispered back.

"No," he groaned sleepily, rolling over and resettling the blanket over his shoulders. "Stay in the room."

"But how will I be ready for Gabby?" I objected quietly.

"Stay in the room," he grumbled again, not moving this time, his voice fading. I frowned but turned away from the door anyway. He needed some rest. I wasn't going to keep him from it and if I argued now, he'd just come after me and neither of us would be happy. So instead, I found Sam's laptop and pulled it out to look for Gabby.

Three hours later, the guys were up and dressed and I hadn't found a damned thing. While they got ready, I got the story out of them on what had happened the night before and it shoved searching for Gabby right out of my mind. When they got to the storage locker, they found demons all right, dead ones, and a very pissed off Zachariah guarded by two other angels. Zachariah told them that they'd planted that prophecy in Chuck's head to drive Dean to the lockup and their waiting arms. Furthermore, the sword wasn't an actual sword, it was Dean, who was Michael's vessel. The reason that the angels had been chasing after Dean and keeping him in that green room, the whole reason they'd gotten Dean to swear to serve the angels, the whole reason for all of it was so that Dean would consent to be Michael's vessel so that Michael could defeat Lucifer. Dean refused. Zachariah broke Sam's legs, said that Bobby would never walk again, gave Dean stomach cancer, and then took away Sam's lungs. Dean refused and refused and refused.

And then Cas had appeared. Cas, who we'd all thought was dead, killed Zachariah's two backup angels. Astonished, Zachariah had asked Cas how he was alive and Cas had told him, with meaning, that the angels hadn't done it. Then he'd demanded that Zachariah heal Sam and Dean and go. Frightened, Zachariah had obeyed. Then Castiel told the guys that Lucifer was circling his vessel and once he was in it, the hex bags wouldn't be enough to hid them from Lucifer and the demons. He'd burned an Enochian sigil onto their rib cages that would hide them from angels, demons, and Lucifer. Then the guys had asked Cas if he'd really been dead. Cas had said yes, but when asked how he was alive now, he'd just vanished.

"Wow," I said, leaning forward against the table as the two of them took long draughts from their coffee cups. I'd shut the laptop long ago. "Thats… wow. I slept through all that?"

Dean snorted. "You slept through a lot, sweetheart. I don't think that I've ever seen you sleep that hard. I gotta tell you, though; it was good to see."

I flushed with shame and dropped my head so he couldn't see my face. "You know," I said in an attempt to change the subject, "I don't have those sigils and you guys do, which means that Lucifer or the angels or demons could find you through me. It's not exactly like I'm a secret."

Dean got up and ruffled my hair on his way to the yellowed coffee maker. "We'll get Cas to give you one, too, next time he shows up," he said. He poured coffee into his cup. "Fair warning, though, it hurts like a son of a bitch."

"Thanks," I muttered.

Sam tilted his chin at the laptop that I closed. "Did you find anything on Gabby while we were sleeping?"

I glanced at the top of the silver laptop and shook my head. "No, nothing. It's like she's disappeared, but I know she's up to something. I just can't find her… Oh!" And all at once I remembered and couldn't ever believe that I'd forgotten. I jumped to my feet and rushed over to my purple duffel bag, digging deep inside the bag. Bobby had found a smaller box to keep it in and it had moved all the way to the bottom of the duffel under three days of dirty clothes.

I yanked out the thin, rectangular, black painted wooden box and turned to find the two of them watching me closely with curious expressions. I carried the box over to the table, and as Dean slid into the chair next to Sam, I undid the latch and opened the box. Inside was the rough, gnarled, pointed stake made from the Stelmužė Oak. It was about the length and width of a butcher's knife. "It's the stake," I said, taking it out of the box and handing it to Sam. "It was delivered a couple of days ago to Bobby's house."

Sam turned it over and over in his hands. "This will kill Gabby?" he asked.

I shrugged. "That's what Bobby said," I answered. "If I can ever find her…" The two of them traded the stake back and forth, and then Dean put it in the box and handed it back to me.

"Put that back in your duffel and don't lose it," he said. I took it from him and carried it back to my bag. I dug down deep into the bag and buried it again. Chewing my lip, I turned back towards Sam and Dean.

"You know," I said hesitantly. "There is one way to bring her to me." My hand crept up to the ring around my neck but before it even got there, Dean was crossing the room in long strides, shaking his head.

"No. No, Jessie," he said as he reached me, his brows drawn together in worry and dismay.

"But she'd come, and we could kill her," I said. "I'd just stab her with the stake and it would be done. It would be over."

Dean shook his head. "No! What did you promise me?" he demanded, his hands landing hard on my shoulders. I flinched at the tone in his voice.

"But, Dean, we have the stake now…" I started.

He cut me off with a hard shake. "What did you promise me after we found Audra's skull in that burned out basement? What did you promise me?" he demanded, his voice practically frantic.

The memory came flooding back to me. The rumble of the Impala's engine, Dean's lap, the smell of leather and coriander, tears running down my face, panic fading despite the guilt that still clung to me today. Tears rose to my eyes at the memory, the same feelings flooding through me.

"I promised that I wouldn't take the ring off until you and Sam say to, no matter what," I said quietly, not looking at him.

He let go of one of my shoulders to gently cup my chin and draw my head up so I could meet his eyes. He raised his eyebrows. "Are you going to keep that promise to me, little girl?" he asked.

I swallowed hard, remembering how lost he'd been that day and how badly I'd wanted to fix it. "Yes, Dean," I said holding his gaze and meaning it.

The tension went out of his shoulders, his face. "I promise you, Jessie. We will find her and kill her with that stake, but I'm going to keep you as safe as possible when we do it, and that does NOT include you calling her by taking off that ring. We'll find her and come up with a plan. You got me?" He shook me hard again, once.

"Yes, Dean," I said. He dropped his hands off my shoulders and turned away from me, covering his face with his hands for a moment.

Sam had gotten to his feet and was studying the two of us from behind the table. He cleared his throat uncertainly. "I could use some food," he said, his voice getting steadier as he spoke. "How about we go grab some dinner and then go see how Bobby is doing at the hospital."

Seemingly thankful for a plan of action, Dean grabbed his coat from the back of his chair and shrugged into it. "I'm in," he said. "Let's go."

Two hours later, we'd eaten and were ensconced in Bobby's room, a single room painted and bedecked in sickly green-blue hospital colors. Bobby was awake and looking ok, considering his injuries. He was definitely glad to see us, a slight smile crossing his normally grumpy face. I hugged him gently when we got in the room and he kissed my forehead. Leaning against the wall by the window, Sam and Dean caught him up on everything that had happened since we'd dropped him off at the hospital while I sat in the chair next to his bed by the monitors and held his hand, more for my comfort than for his, if I was honest. He let me, though, so maybe it made him feel better, too.

We'd been there about a half hour and Dean had barely finished the story when a young, sandy-haired doctor came in carrying a chart and looking uncomfortable. He stood at the end of the bed and glanced at the lot of us before swallowing hard.

"I'm very sorry, but I need to speak to Mr. Singer alone," the doctor said. He sounded like he was trying to be firm and authoritative, but he was really too nervous to accomplish that. I felt a little bad for him.

Bobby shook his head. "Nah, they can stay," he grumbled. "Whatever you have to say to me, they can hear." I think it only made the poor doctor more uncomfortable. The doctor moved around to where I was sitting to check the monitors. I stayed where I was even though I knew I was in his way, but Dean took pity on the doctor and snapped his fingers at me, pointing to a chair next to him. Frowning and reluctant, I got to my feet and moved over to sit next to Dean, dragging my feet the whole way. Dean rolled his eyes at me as I settled into the chair.

The doctor took the chair I had been sitting in. "Mr. Singer, we didn't want to worry you until we'd done all the tests." He opened the chart and flipped a couple of pages in. I watched him, worried now for Bobby's sake. I didn't have a lot of experience with doctors, but I'd seen a lot of television, and this looked like bad news. Next to me, Sam shoved his hands into his pockets and Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

"The knife went in deep and nicked your spinal cord." The doctor paused and flipped another page. Bobby's face started to close as the doctor looked up and sighed. "We can't be certain yet," the doctor said quietly. "But you need to face the fact that you're unlikely to walk again."

Bobby lost it. "'Unlikely to walk again'?!" he hollered. "Why, you snot-nosed son of a bitch! Wait till I get out of this bed!" Shocked, the doctor fled, leaving the door open behind him as Bobby continued. "I'll use my game leg and kick your friggin' ass! Yeah, you better run!" I covered my hand with my mouth, unsure whether I should be laughing or crying, but the desire to giggle seeped away as the seriousness of what the doctor said soaked in.

Bobby looked over at Sam and Dean. "You believe that yahoo?" he demanded indignantly.

"Screw him. You'll be fine," Dean said with a certainty I didn't feel.

Sam asked Bobby what we should do and Bobby said that we should save as many as we can for as long as we can, but the fact was that whoever won, we were screwed.

"What if we win," Dean asked. Bobby and Sam looked at him like he was nuts. "I'm serious. I mean, screw the angels and the demons and their crap apocalypse," he said, moving slowly across the room. "Hell, they want to fight a war, they can find their own planet. This one's ours, and I say they get the hell off it. We take 'em all on. We kill the devil. Hell, we even kill Michael if we have to. But we do it our own damn selves."

"And how are we supposed to do all this, genius?" Bobby asked.

"I got no idea," Dean said. "But what I do have is a GED and a give-'em-hell attitude, and I'll figure it out."

Bobby and Sam exchanged dubious and amused looks. "You are nine kinds of crazy, boy," Bobby said.

Dean nodded. "It's been said," he said and reached forward to pat Bobby's shoulder. "Listen, you stay on the mend. We'll see you in a bit." Dean headed towards the door and Sam followed, so I got to my feet.

"Sam?" Bobby said as Sam crossed in front of him. Sam stopped with a question on his face and Dean stepped back into the room. "I was awake," Bobby said. "I know what I said back there. I just want you to know that...that was the demon talking." He paused to let that sink in. "I ain't cutting you out, boy. Not ever."

No one said anything for a minute and then Sam relaxed, letting out a sigh. I did too. This was my Bobby. He'd never let family go and I was so glad about that.

"Thanks, Bobby," Sam said softly.

"You're welcome," Bobby said. "I deserve a damn medal for this, but...you're welcome."

The guys headed into the hallway and I paused to kiss and hug Bobby before following them.

"Bye, Bobby," I said and turned to go. He stopped me with a hand on my wrist.

"You took a swig of my whiskey," Bobby whispered, his eyebrows raised. "Demons never sleep and it was watching you, glad you took its bait." My stomach dropped at his words and my face flared. I stared at him with wide eyes. "You stay away from that stuff," he said.

"It helped me sleep," I whispered.

"Tell Sam and Dean, and find something else to help you sleep," he grumbled. I must've looked as uncertain as I felt because he tugged on my wrist. "Or do I need to talk to them?" he asked, warning in his tone.

I shook my head rapidly back and forth.

"Good," Bobby said as Dean popped his head back into the room again.

"Everything ok?" he asked. I whirled around guiltily at the sound of his voice, and Bobby let go of my wrist.

"Everything's fine. Just clearing something up," Bobby said.

Dean tilted his head and looked at me suspiciously, but I dropped my head so I didn't have to meet his eyes. "Bye, Bobby," I said and left the room with my head down. Dean followed me out.

"You got something you wanna tell me?" Dean asked from behind me as we walked down the hall. I shook my lowered head and kept going until we reached Sam in the lobby. Mercifully, Dean let it go.

Sam was lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to what was going on between me and Dean, and as we walked into the parking lot, he suggested to Dean that we go after the Colt. The two of them argued about whether or not that would help until Dean stopped in the middle of the road and said that everything he'd said to Bobby had been to make Bobby feel better.

"I mean, I'll fight," Dean continued. "I'll fight till the last man, but let's at least be honest. I mean, we don't stand a snowball's chance, and you know that. I mean, hell, you of all people know that." Dean kept going towards the car, and Sam stood there and stared after him. Unsure whether I should follow Dean or stay with Sam, I stood awkwardly in between the two and chewed my lip.

"Dean," Sam said. Dean stopped and turned back to look at Sam. "Is there something you want to say to me?" Sam asked.

Dean paused. "Get in the car, Jessie," he said. I gave one final look from one to the other and got into the Impala, shutting the door behind me. Then I knelt on the backseat and watched the two of them talk. I couldn't hear a damned word they were saying, and that was infuriating. Dean was torn up, Sam was torn up. God, this again? Still? I rested my chin on my arms and waited until Dean got in the car and told me to put on my seatbelt. A couple minutes later, Sam followed and we set off down the road in painful, uncomfortable silence.


	5. Chapter 5 - Losing Battles

Four days later, I still hadn't said anything to Sam and Dean, even though I hadn't had a drink since Bobby told me to stop. Everyone had too much to worry about right now. My inability to sleep and the trouble it was getting me into was really the least of all of their worries, or so I told myself. Everyone was worried about Bobby. He hadn't spoken in three days, ever since the doctors had brought in a wheelchair and put him in it the first time. He'd just shut up and shut down. Nothing Sam or Dean or I could do made him even look at us, much less speak to us. He just sat in the wheelchair and stared out the window, or if the curtains were closed, he would just sit there and stare at the wall, his face set in angry lines. Sometimes I sat next to him and held his hand. Other times, Sam and Dean would put on the television and try to watch the game or a movie with him. Nothing. We kept visiting, though. There was nothing else to do.

This time, when we got there, Sam just stood outside the room, leaning against the doorway and watched Bobby sit in his bathrobe in the wheelchair and stare out the window. Sam wouldn't let me go in, so I leaned against the wall across from the doorway and watched both of them, Sam as lost in thought as Bobby. Dean joined us a few minutes later and I was happier than hell to see him strolling down the hallway with a manila sleeve in his hand. I pushed away from the wall to join him. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders as he stopped and leaned against the other side of the door frame, joking that he ought to give Bobby a back rub to cheer him up. Sam sighed and told him that it was possible that Bobby might not bounce back this time. The two of them exchanged worried looks for a second. Dean glanced down at me and pulled me a little closer to him.

Then Sam noticed the sleeve that Dean was carrying, the word X-RAY printed in red on the front. When Sam asked what it was, Dean said something about glamour shots and, letting me go, pulled out an x-ray of his rib cage, Enochian symbols carved all over it. They looked at it for a minute until Sam's phone started ringing and Sam handed the x-ray back to Dean to answer it.

"Is that what he's going to do to me?" I said, looking at the x-ray as Dean shoved it into the envelope. "Shit."

"Language," Dean reminded me automatically as Sam said, "Castiel?"

Sam listened for another second, looking at Dean with a confused look before he said, "St. Martin's Hospital. Why? What are you…Cas?" Rolling his eyes, he hung up and gave Dean a look. The next thing we knew, Castiel was striding down the hall past the doctors and nurses. I stepped aside to make room for him, reminding myself not to open my furnace. It was a struggle, but I won it and kept the furnace closed.

"Cell phone, Cas? Really?" Dean asked. "Since when do angels need to reach out and touch someone?"

Cas noticed me and an expression of dawning realization crossed his face. "I forgot about you," he said with wonder.

Impatience flared along with my furnace. "Screw you," I snapped, unable to help myself.

"Jessie!" Dean said right as Castiel placed his hand on my chest and light flared. I fought against a scream as the symbols he'd put on Sam and Dean etched themselves into my bones.

"You need the symbols, too," Cas said, taking his hand away and turning to Dean. I stood gasping against the slowly fading hot pain encircling my lungs and heart as Cas answered Dean. "You're hidden from angels now… all angels. I won't be able to simply…"

"Enough foreplay" Bobby growled suddenly from inside the room. "Get over here and lay your damn hands on." I stared at him in shock and then smiled, happy to hear his voice for the first time in days. I stepped into the room to go to him, but Dean's hand dropped onto my neck. Bobby looked at us all over his shoulder. "Get healing," he demanded. "Now."

Dean smirked and let me go, but Castiel said, "I can't."

Bobby turned his chair around, his face still and furious. Not two steps into the room, I froze. "Say again?" Bobby said, a world of warning in those two words. Castiel stepped around me and into the room to stand in front of Bobby. I had to fight again not to open my furnace with him so close to me. Dean and Sam watched Castiel closely, but I was watching Bobby as Castiel explained that he was cut off from much of heaven's power and that he could only do some things. When Castiel apologized, Bobby told him to shove it up his ass and slowly turned back to face the window. I stepped back towards Dean, unwilling to be the target of Bobby's anger just then.

Dean whispered to Sam, smiling a little, "At least he's talking now."

"I heard that," Bobby growled. Dean looked at Sam with widened eyes. I was amused that he got caught. Still, I leaned against Dean for comfort while Castiel came back and told Dean that his idea to kill Lucifer was stupid, but that God was stronger than Michael, stronger than Lucifer, strong enough to stop the apocalypse. He said he was going to find God.

Dean ushered everyone into the room and closed the door. I climbed onto the bed to listen as Castiel said that if God isn't in heaven then he has to be somewhere. Dean sarcastically suggested that he might be on a tortilla in New Mexico, and Castiel took him seriously and told him that God is not on any flat bread. Dean shook his head, ignored that, and told Castiel that if God is out there, he's either dead or he doesn't care about any of us. Castiel insisted he was alive and when Dean went on about how God must be off on vacation, Castiel told him to stop. He said that finding God was strategic because with God's help, we can win. Dean told him it was a pipe dream.

Castiel moved close to Dean's, his face in Dean's face, his expression set. Castiel growled at Dean that he'd killed two angels this week, brothers, that he'd rebelled, that he's being hunted, and that it was all for Dean, and Dean had failed. Castiel said that Sam and Dean destroyed the world and Castiel lost everything, for nothing. He told Dean to keep his opinions to himself. Dean went a little white.

By the time he was finished speaking, I was standing on the bed, my furnace wide open, ready to set Castiel on fire for what he was saying, how much he didn't understand. I didn't even remember moving.

"Jessie, sit your ass down and put your fire away," Bobby snapped at me. My face bright red with embarrassment, I obeyed and dropped back down on Bobby's bed. Bobby said to Castiel in a much calmer voice, "You didn't drop in just to tear us a new hole. What is it you want?"

Castiel said that he came for a rare and powerful amulet. It burns hot in God's presence, which would help him find God. Bobby said he didn't have anything like that and looked pointedly at the amulet on Dean's chest, the one Sam gave him for Christmas all those years ago. I gasped. Castiel asked Dean if he could borrow the amulet. Clearly upset, Dean refused, but Castiel insisted. After thinking about it for a minute, Dean agreed, handed it over carefully, reluctantly, and told Castiel not to lose it. Dean muttered that he felt naked without it. Then Castiel was gone.

"When you find God, tell him to send legs!" Bobby hollered into the empty air. I smirked despite myself, glad Bobby couldn't see me.

"Jessie," Dean said, crooking his finger at me when I turned to see what he wanted. Hesitantly, I climbed off the bed and went to him. He bent down and looked me in the eyes.

"I know," I whispered before he could say anything. "I didn't even know I was doing it, Dean. I just did it."

"You've gotta…" Dean started and suddenly, an idea came to me.

"Maybe it's not me, maybe it's Gabby!" I interrupted.

Dean paused mid-word, a confused look on his face. "What?" he asked.

"Every time the angels show up, I react the same way. I open my furnace, like I need to protect myself, even though I don't mean to. Maybe it's the same reason that Cas said that Chuck couldn't see me. Maybe it's the same reason that I couldn't be near those Pagan Christmas gods, that their presence pushed me away, made me want to light a fire. Maybe it's why Castiel forgot about me. Maybe all of it is because I belong to a different god, Gabby. We know how jealous she is!"

Dean sighed and straighted, crossing his arms over his chest. "You sure you're not just making up some sort of excuse?" he asked me, looking down at me with raised eyebrows.

I shrugged and chewed on my lip. "I don't think so," I said uncertainly. Dean rolled his eyes and pulled out his wallet. He handed me a five. I looked from it to him a couple of times, confused.

"Go get us some sodas," Dean said grumpily. "And keep your fire locked up."

I smiled at him and left, glad to get off so easily. I was halfway down the hallway before I figured out that they'd probably been trying to get rid of me so they could talk. I glanced back at the room. I'd left the door open, so there was no way to eavesdrop without getting caught. Annoyed now, I picked up the pace.

The soda machine was a haul from Bobby's room, so it took me a good ten minutes to get back, even trying to rush. When I got back, though, Sam and Dean were saying goodbye to Bobby.

"What…?" I started, my hands full of three cans of soda.

"We got a case," Dean said. "Demons in River Pass, Colorado. Say goodbye to Bobby."

We headed back to the hotel room where I packed up my stuff while Sam and Dean huddled by the table and talked quietly. They thought I couldn't hear them, but I could.

"We can't bring her," Dean said.

"We can't leave her, either," replied Sam. "Bobby's in the hospital and in no shape to watch her, and do you really want to leave her alone in the room for two full days plus however long it takes to solve this?"

"God damn it," Dean muttered, running his hand through his hair. "It's demons, Sam. She's got no more protection against them than we do. All she can do is burn the host and I don't want more dead people on her conscience."

"Look, we'll just take her and drop her at a motel in River Pass," Sam said. "She'll be fine."

"Rufus said that the town is full of demons," Dean argued.

"Then the town before River Pass," Sam said. "It's closer at least. She won't be alone as long, can't get in as much trouble."

"Fine," Dean said, annoyed. He stomped down off the second level and started packing his bag. Sam waited a second and then followed suit.

Fuming, my face red, I continued to shove clothes angrily into the bag. I wasn't a troublemaker. It wasn't fair. I could behave myself for three or four days alone and I could help on a stupid fight with a bunch of demons. I wasn't a complete noob anymore. As the bag filled, I tried to let the anger go, but it wasn't. I could only get it down to a slow simmer, resentment keeping it alive. How much did I have to do for Dean to realize I could help?


	6. Chapter 6 - No Peace of Mind

It was over twenty hours later that we pulled to a stop on the destroyed bridge over the river leading into River Pass, Colorado. The ride had not been a comfortable one for me. The nightmares and crazy, wild, stressful dreams had followed me into the Impala, despite my sleeping right next to Dean, or Sam when Dean was napping in the backseat. I was exhausted and so very tired of my brain showing my just how helpless I am. I was counting the days since I'd gotten a good night's sleep thanks to Dean's whiskey and wishing I hadn't taken Bobby's words to heart.

The guys got out of the car and went around to the front to look at the broken bridge. I considered getting out, too, but discarded that idea as too much effort with how tired I was. The world was too bright and the edges of my vision were hazy from lack of sleep. I rested my head on the door and watched them talk, both of them staring down into the river valley, framed by the broken, twisted metal railings on the bridge and towering pine trees across the river. After a minute or so, Dean kicked something on the bridge before coming back to the car and opening the trunk.

Curious now, I made myself move, slowly cranking down the window and called out to ask, "What's going on?"

Sam leaned backwards so he could see me around the trunk lid. "We're gonna have to hike in," he said as Dean handed him a bag and shut the trunk. Before I could say anything else, Dean pointed at me.

"You're staying here in the car," he said flatly, slinging a bag onto his back, a shotgun in his other hand. Panic spiked through me, chasing away the exhaustion. I got to my knees on the back seat and leaned out the window as he came around the side of the car.

"Dean!" I objected. "I can't stay here! It's in the middle of the only road going in or out of this town! This isn't safe! What about when it gets dark?" I peered up at him as he set the shotgun on the top of the car and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"You're staying here," he said. "If there'd been a motel in the last town, I'd've left you there."

I ducked back into the car, scrabbling at the door handle. Dean stepped forward and put his hand on the door, holding it closed. "Stay here, Jessie," he said.

I let go of the handle, slid across the seat, and got out the other side of the car. Dean watched me, frowning as I rushed around the back of the car to stand in front of him. I bit my lips together as I frantically tried to come up with some reason for me to go with him. Shifting from one foot to the other, I burst out, "Dean, please! You know the safest place is with you and Sam. Please? I don't want to stay here all alone!"

Dean's expression eased. "It's safer here than it is for you to come with us," he said. "You know how to take care of yourself. We'll be in and out before dark. You'll be fine, sweetheart." He put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me to him. For once, it didn't help. I pushed away from him, the fear starting to turn to anger.

"I can help," I insisted.

"Jessie, they're demons. You're staying here where you're safe. I'm not having a repeat of what happened when we were rescuing Jimmy Novak's kid."

Anger won. I yanked my necklace out of my shirt and held it up. "I have this!" I half-yelled at him. "And I have this!" I opened my furnace and pushed at a nearby fallen log. The log burst into flames, burning halfway down as I poured my furnace into it.

Dean grabbed me by the arm and shook me. "Put it out!" he snapped. Flushing, I pulled the fire back into me, immediately regretting my rashness.

"Sorry," I whispered, looking down.

Dean let my arm go and instead grasped my chin, forcing me to look up at him. "You're staying here, where it's safe," he growled. "And now you're writing lines, too. Get in the car. Move."

I looked at Sam. He looked back, his jaw tight, and I knew I'd find no help there. Stupid temper. I might have been able to convince them if I hadn't lost it. I turned around and got back into the car, tears threatening to fall. Sitting stiffly on the seat, I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to keep from crying.

Dean leaned into the car. "Stay here, Jessie. You understand me?" he asked, half-growling. I nodded, not meeting his eyes, but that wasn't good enough. "Out loud," he said.

I sighed and muttered, "Yes, Dean."

He reached in and ruffled my hair. "You're going to be ok, sweetheart," he said. He pushed away from the window and walked away from the car.

Sam poked his head in. "Two hundred times," he said patiently. "I will not lose my temper and start fires."

Sighing, I rolled my eyes and looked up at him beseechingly. "Come on, Sam," I argued. "Isn't this already hard enough on me?"

"Yeah, and you went and lost your temper and made it worse," Sam said. "Done by the time we get back."

"Fine," I said, and Sam pushed away from the window to follow Dean. "If you come back," I muttered to myself, staring after them. I watched as they navigated the river rocks, jumping from one to another with a lightness that their sizes belied. I watched as they climbed up the opposite bank, and then I watched them get back on the road and start towards the town. I watched until they were out of sight.

I pulled a notebook out of my backpack and started writing the lines that Sam had assigned me, but every single noise in the forest made me jump. I set the notebook down, rolled the windows up, made sure all the doors were locked, and lay down on the seat. I was just starting to drift off when there was a pop outside the car, startling me awake. I quick glance outside showed no demons, no nothing. Just forest and the noises the ever-moving forest makes.

"Fuck it," I whispered. "It's safer with Sam and Dean."

I sat up and got out of the car. Before I locked the doors, I pulled the knife out from under the front seat and the pistol from the glove box. I probably wouldn't need them. It's not like they'd stop a demon, but I thought maybe it would distract one long enough for me to get away. Besides, if it really came down to it, I thought that emptying my furnace onto a demon host would burn it past its usefulness. My furnace was bigger than the last time I'd used it to burn a demon and I had more control now.

As I shut the car door, I tripped over a pine cone that hadn't been there the last time I'd gotten out of the car. It was probably what had made the noise, but I didn't care, not anymore. Following the way Sam and Dean went, I crossed the river one rock at a time. When I reached the other side, I climbed the bank and set off down the road at a jog, staying off the road.

A half hour later, I'd made it into town, ducking behind trees and buildings and anything else that would give me cover and hide me from prying eyes, Winchester or otherwise. I'd caught up with the guys, but stayed well away from them and out of their sight line, but I kept an eye on them. I followed them at a distance into the town. They moved up the main street, shotguns drawn, eyes aware, checking cars and windows for any signs of demons. The town itself was a wreck, buildings had broken windows, cars were flipped over, abandoned in the middle of the street. There was no one on the road. Aside from an occasional cat or squirrel crossing the road, Sam and Dean were the only moving, living things.

I stayed back and hid from them, behind a wall, crouched low. My plan was… well, it wasn't much of a plan. I figured I'd follow them as closely as I could and when they found a place to hole up, I'd join them. I chewed my lip and watched Dean turn off the engine of a running car. The sounds of "Spirit in the Sky" had barely faded when I felt something hard press into my back, and then water poured over me. I gasped and whirled, drawing my knife and opening my furnace, only to be faced with an average height, brown haired, middle aged woman dressed in what I could only describe as hunter clothes: jeans, flannel shirt, and a work jacket. She had a gun pointed at me, but her eyes were most definitely brown and not black. Unsure whether she was a demon without that sign, I closed my furnace. When she reached to take the knife from me, I let her.

"Who are you?" she asked, holding onto the knife. "You're not a demon. You live in this town?" I shook my head slowly. She looked at me and then looked behind me, probably at Sam and Dean making their way down the street a ways away. "You know them?"

"No," I lied. If she was a demon, I didn't want her to have any leverage on me.

"You got a name, kid?"

"Jessie," I whispered, but I didn't say anything else.

"Come on," she said, sighing. "This is no place for a kid to be. I'll get you somewhere safe and then you can tell me where the hell you came from."

She led me down the street, circling the guys at a wide distance, around buildings and vehicles. I followed easily, obeying her simple signals to stay still or move as she made them. She was clearly experienced. Finally, when we were in a position where the guys were in front of us with their backs to us, she signaled me to stay still behind the pickup truck we were using for cover and then strode forward and pulled the hammer back on her six shooter. The guys whirled around, bringing their shotguns up.

Both of them immediately relaxed just a little as they recognized her, and Sam said, "Ellen?"

Ellen's grip on her gun didn't waver. "Hello, boys," she said. Dean lowered his shotgun all the way and straightened up, exchanging glances with Sam. Ellen lowered her gun and closed the distance between them.

"What the heck is going on here?" Dean asked gruffly and Ellen threw holy water from her flask into his face and pointed the gun right at his forehead.

Dean sighed and blinked the water out of his eyes before saying in an annoyed tone, "We're us."

Ellen took the gun out of his face and waved me out from behind the truck before pushing between the two of them and striding towards the church on the opposite corner of the intersection without another word. Dean looked back and saw me as I stepped out from behind the truck. His face closed and his jaw tightened. I knew that expression and I stopped, afraid to go any further right then. Sam looked more resigned than mad.

"I told you," Sam started. "She was too upset."

"Shut up," Dean said and turned to follow Ellen without a word to me. Sam waved at me to come and followed Dean; so I did, jogging a little to catch up, worried. Dean hadn't said anything to me. That wasn't good. Oh man, was that not good.

Ellen pushed open the church door and stepped across a salt line and a devil's trap into a tiny, dark vestibule that really only had stairs in it, going down. Dean followed her, then Sam, then me. I shut the door behind me. Ellen reached the head of the stairs, then turned around and hugged Dean tight. "Real glad to see you boys," she exclaimed, her voice breaking a little. I was a bit astonished at the switch in how she was acting and glanced back at the salt line and devil's trap. Oh, she'd wanted to be sure…

When she let Dean go, she took a step back, hauled off, and smacked him across the face, hard. "You know the can of whoop-ass I ought to open on you?" she railed at him while Dean said, "Ow," his hand going up to his face.

"You can't pick up a phone?" she continued. "What are you, allergic to giving me peace of mind?" She leveled a glare at Sam and he shifted uncomfortably. "I got to find out that you're alive from Rufus?" she demanded, like that was the worst thing in the world. I dropped my head and covered the smile I couldn't help. It wasn't exactly that I was happy about their predicament, but it was amusing to see them getting scolded for a change. Mine would be coming soon enough. The thought sobered me and my eyes involuntarily settled on Dean's belt.

"Sorry, Ellen," Dean said.

"Yeah, you better be," she responded. "You better put me on speed dial, kid."

"Yes, ma'am," Dean said. Ellen stared at him a minute longer, and then her face softened. She looked away and then stared down the stairs. Dean glanced back at Sam with widening eyes. Sam shrugged. Dean followed Ellen, and Sam turned around and nodded for me to go ahead of him.

"What's going on, Ellen?" Dean asked as we descended.

"More than I can handle alone," Ellen said.

"How many demons are there?" Sam asked.

"Pretty much the whole town, minus the dead people and these guys," she said as we reached the bottom of the stairs, which landed us in a room that was just as dark and maybe half again as big as the room upstairs. Ellen paused in front of the door across from the stairs and turned around. "So, this is it, right?" she asked like she was a little afraid of the answer. "End times? It's got to be."

Sam and Dean looked at each other and Sam said, "Seems like it." I stepped forward and wound my arms around Sam's arm for comfort. Ellen nodded once and then her eyes fell on me.

"I found her following you guys around the town at a distance," she said. "I guess she belongs to you?"

Dean looked down at me. "Yeah, she's mine," he said, annoyance warring with pride in his voice. Sam slung his arm around me and hugged me to his side while I watched Ellen with wide eyes.

"You gotta be crazy bringing her here. What the hell were you thinking? She's what, ten, eleven?" Ellen demanded.

"Twelve and a half," I said proudly. Ellen raised her brows and shook her head before looking at Dean accusingly.

"Don't look at me. She's got a mind of her own. I left her somewhere safe," Dean said, turning to glare down on me. "And told her to stay put!"

"The only safe place is with you and Sam!" I shot back, stepping out of Sam's embrace and setting my feet into a stubborn stance, hands clenched at my side.

Dean watched me with a scowl on his face, then looked at Ellen and said, "She's may not look it, but she can protect herself."

Ellen shook her head. "If you say so… dad." She turned to the door and knocked on it right below the freshly drilled hole at about eye level. "It's me," she said.

A youngish, bearded guy armed with a rifle let us in. I followed Sam, and thus couldn't see much until we were all the way in. It was the basement of the church, clearly used as an overflow room for services or other events. Ten people, aside from the four of us, were in the room. All of them civilians, although the guy who'd opened the door held himself like he might have been in the military at some point. One woman was pregnant, one guy was a priest, and everyone looked worried, sad, and uncertain. All of them were scared. I knew the look. I'd seen it in the mirror too often not to.

Ellen introduced the Sam and Dean as hunters and said they were here to help. Ellen filled Sam and Dean in, said that she'd gotten a call from Rufus and she and Jo had come down to help, and while they were looking for Rufus, the two of them had gotten separated. She was out looking when she found the three of us. Dean suggested getting the rest of the group out of town and Ellen said that they'd tried that, that there used to be twenty people. She said there were demons everywhere and that even the three of them couldn't cover everyone. Sam suggested arming everyone. Dean said that they'd passed a sporting goods store on the way in that probably had guns. He dropped his bag on the floor. Sam told Ellen that she should stay and the two of them would go, and that if Jo and Rufus were out there, they'd bring them back.

Dean turned his attention to me, his expression dark. My stomach dropped. "Sit your butt in that chair over there," he said, pointing to a small, wooden chair in the corner. "and don't move unless Ellen tells you to. Are we clear?"

I swallowed, nodded, and when he tilted his head at me and raised his brows, said, "Yes, Dean," in the smallest voice imaginable.

"You don't want to piss me off more, Jessie," he warned. Flushing, I dropped my head and scurried over to the chair like he'd told me. He looked at me for a long moment and then he and Sam left the room. When the door shut behind them, I let out my breath and looked up to meet Ellen's curious eyes.


	7. Chapter 7 - Frayed Tempers

The little wooden chair was too small for me to pull my feet up into it, and it was hard and uncomfortable, and the pistol I'd stuck in my waistband at the small of my back was poking me. I'd looked beseechingly at Ellen, but with that annoying collusion of all adults when a kid is in trouble, she'd just left me in the corner and gone to teach the rest of the group how to use a shotgun, something I was still too little to do without something behind me to brace against the kickback. I watched her teach them for a bit. She was patient, even if she was gruff. It was obvious that her gruffness was concern and care. In that way, she reminded me a lot of Bobby. I could see why Sam and Dean liked her, and I wondered a little about their history, especially since she'd mentioned her daughter Jo. I remembered something about a Grandma Ellen and an Aunt Jo from when I'd thought Dean was my actual dad, but I couldn't ask her anything while I was stuck in this stupid corner. At least the chair was pointed out towards the room.

Bored with watching her instruction, I looked around the room. There were stacks of tables against the walls, more chairs. Cots had been set up around the walls, covered in worn sheets and old worn blankets. Recessed into the back wall was a platform raised about a foot above the checkered terrazzo floor with a podium on top of it. The walls were coated in wood paneling and peppered with old pictures, crosses, needlepoints with pithy church sayings, and handwritten signs about potlucks and pancake breakfasts. Metal pillars were scattered about the room, holding up the church. Pedestals of candles graced the raised platform.

One spare brown table was set up in front of the raised platform. Another, table with a fitted, flowered table cover had been set up in the middle of the room, and that's where everyone was sitting listening to Ellen amidst a collection of lanterns, candles, water, and books. Although they were all intent on what Ellen was saying, only the military guy didn't look uneasy and the pregnant lady looked the most uncomfortable. One guy wasn't paying attention to Ellen hardly at all. He couldn't seem to stop looking at me. With his gray hair and glasses, he looked like an accountant, but the contemplative look he had on his face while he was watching me… it looked like hunger, like he was thinking about how he could eat me, all the while fingering his ring.

I squirmed a little on the chair, wishing I could get up and walk around, get out of his sight, but I didn't dare. I was pretty sure that if I did, even if Ellen didn't tell Dean, she'd have a few things to say to me herself and I didn't want to face that, not after I'd seen her slap Dean without hesitation. I averted my eyes from the accountant-guy's and shifted again, no longer resentful of the lump of metal pressing into my back. I reached back and patted it before running ran my hands up and down my arms, scratching the entire way. When I looked back up, he wasn't watching me anymore, he was looking at Ellen and the hunger was gone from his eyes, but now the room felt a little too small, a little too close with all the people in it.

I chewed on my lip, fighting my nerves, but it didn't work. I didn't know these people and the guy had been looking at me weird. I didn't feel safe for so many reasons. I looked like a normal, helpless twelve-year-old. Anyone who wanted to take advantage of me might try and that could go bad quick. I needed a way to make sure they didn't even try. I couldn't show them my fire, but I had a pistol and I could show them I wasn't helpless. Maybe if they knew that, I'd be safer.

I reached back and touched the pistol again but then stopped. The thing was Dean was already mad and he seemed to both know and trust Ellen. Dean always said not to pull a gun unless you meant to shoot someone, and I didn't. I just wanted to scare them, and I didn't want Dean any madder than he already was, not that he could kill me twice… Reluctantly, I put my hand back in my lap and looked up at the group, only to find Ellen had turned from the group and was watching me again with a little half-smile on her face. Still scratching up and down my arms, I gave her a tentative smile back, and she came across the room, pulled another one of the little wooden chairs off the pile next to me, and sat down in front of me.

"Done training?" I asked.

"Can't do much else until we see what kind of shotguns the boys bring back," Ellen said, resting both elbows on her knees and leaning toward me. The chair she was in was pretty small and she was too big for it so it kind of disappeared behind her, giving the illusion that she was floating in front of me. "How'd you end up on the road with these boys?" she asked. "I gotta know. The last time I saw them, it was just the two of 'em."

Leaning back, I considered how much I should tell her. I reminded myself that Dean trusted her and ran my nails across my scalp to ease the crawling feeling there. She was so close to me. "There was a house fire," I said. "My parents were killed and I took off into the woods. They found me and took me to Bobby's, and then they decided to keep me." My voice faltered a little. "I've never quite been sure why. I've been with them for a year and a half now."

Ellen turned her head to the side, her chin a little up, and looked at me dubiously out of the corner of her eye. "I got a daughter, Jessie Winchester, and I can tell when a kid is lying."

I glared at her, resentful of the accusation. "I'm not lying. I'm just not telling you everything, and I don't have to."

"Fair enough," she said, giving a short nod as she turned her head back. "So let me ask you something else. What do they do with you when they're hunting?"

I sighed. "Usually, they leave me in a motel room or the car. Sometimes I end up at Bobby's. Sometimes I end up helping."

"They're training you to hunt?" Ellen asked sharply, drawing herself up.

"No," I said, dropping my head, my voice tinged with disappointment. "Sam says that I'll only hunt over his and Dean's dead body. Dean's even worse. Thing is, there's this problem that I have to take care of, and only I can do it, so they have to train me to do that thing, and then that's it. No more hunting if they have anything to say about it."

Ellen relaxed. "That thing you have to do have something to do with why your house burned down and why your parents died?" I nodded, the lump in my throat preventing me from answering. She smiled at me reassuringly. "You know, you'd do better to do what they say, stay where they tell you," she said. "You're not making it any easier on any of you by running off after them or doing what they tell you not to."

"I know," I said softly, flushing. "Bobby says that, too."

"Well," she said, getting to her feet and pushing the chair back. "Take the good advice everyone is giving you." She started back towards the table, leaving me to my sitting.

About ten minutes later, the guys got back. The military guy let them in and Dean immediately looked at my corner when he got into the room, but he didn't call me out. Instead, he, Sam, and Ellen talked in a tight knot by the door for a minute before Sam and Ellen started passing out the shotguns. Dean caught my eye, which wasn't hard because I hadn't stopped watching him since he got back, and crooked his finger at me. I slowly got to my feet and rubbing my hands nervously on my thighs, I made my way across the room to him where he was standing next to the table with the flowered covering.

"You ok?" he asked when I reached him.

"Yeah," I said uncertainly.

"You sure?" he asked, tilting his head down and looking at me from under his brows. "You're squirming a lot and you haven't stopped scratching your arms and head since we got back." I put my arms down, suddenly aware I was doing it right then. "You need to start a fire?"

I shook my head and looked down at my feet. "No. It's just a lot of people in this little space and I don't know what to do." I peeked up at him through my bangs. He looked me over and then nodded his head once and pulled one of the chairs out.

"Sit," he said.

I frowned and dropped into the chair. "I'm not a dog," I said resentfully. He ignored my comment and put a pad of paper in front of me, dropping a pen on top of it. I stared at it for a second and then looked up. "What's this?"

"This is what you're going to be doing while the three of us teach these people how to load and shoot a shotgun. You're writing the lines Sam gave you to do in the car," Dean said flatly.

"Aw, man," I said, staring down at the pen and paper. I plunked my elbow onto the table and leaned my head on my arm.

"Get to it, and I don't want to hear a word out of you, you got me?" Dean asked sternly.

"Yeah," I muttered and picked up the pen.

Sam, Ellen, and Dean went to work teaching the ten survivors how to make salt round and load them into the shotguns. They went from person to person and gave them hands on lessons, pointing out the parts of the gun they had. I scrawled line after line and sulked at the unfairness. If I wasn't being punished, I'd've been able to help. Instead, I was stuck writing on this stupid pad of paper and listening to them. I found out that the military guy's name was Austin and the accountant-guy's name was Roger. Roger was just the worst at loading his gun, constantly dropping the shells and fumbling with it. Even pregnant-lady did better than Roger did.

After a while, everyone was comfortable and I was about halfway through my lines, still fidgeting with discomfort at the number of people. I was running my hands through my hair for the billionth time when Roger sat down next to me, looking down at my pad of paper filled with my messy scrawl of "I will not lose my temper and start fires." I flipped the pad over, but it was too late.

"So you've got the typical redhead temper, huh?" he asked me, pointing at the pad. "What's that about setting fires?"

"It's figurative," I snapped at him, glaring. " I didn't actually start a fire." I leaned my elbow protectively onto the pad and looked around for Dean, but he was sitting next to Sam on the raised platform. Dean was looking at Sam with a suspicious expression on his face and Sam was looking off into the distance. No help there. "I'm not supposed to be talking to you," I said scratching at my neck. My head was starting to throb. I checked my furnace, but it seemed ok. "I'm being punished." The bitter note on that word rose up of its own volition.

Roger held up his hands as if in surrender. "I'll just take myself over here, then," he said got up, turning away. I watched him walk to the other table and pick up his shotgun. The itchy feeling and headache eased a little now that he'd moved away. What the hell was wrong with me? I squirmed, uncomfortable. I needed to get out of here. I looked over at Dean.

Ellen was standing in front of them, talking in a quiet, tense voice, a rifle gripped in her hand, it's barrel pointed at the floor. Sam and Dean stood up and the two of them strode past me and went out the door. I turned to watch them, nervous. Were they going to leave me here with Ellen again? I didn't think I could stand that, but they left the door open and started arguing so low I couldn't hear them. I got to my feet, watching their faces grow angry. Suddenly, Sam shoved Dean so hard, he slammed into the wall behind them. I took off for the door, getting there just as Sam finished saying whatever he'd been saying. He turned and pushed past me into the room, his shoulders tense with fury. Dean pushed away from the wall and shook himself at little.

"Are you ok?" I asked, leaning on the doorjamb.

He turned his mad look at me. "Someone tell you to get up?" he asked sharply, coming back through the door. He shut the door behind us and tried to put his arm around my shoulders.

My temper flared at his tone, and I pulled away from him. "You expected me to sit there while Sam shoved you?" I demanded. I turned from him and stomped back to my chair at the table, practically throwing myself into it. I sat stiffly for a minute, sure he was going to come after me, but he didn't. I heard the door open and close again and turned to see that Ellen and Sam had gone. Dean grabbed a candelabra and shoved it under the door handles behind them.

I turned back to the pad of paper to finish my lines, my nerves screaming at me. All there was left to do was wait.


	8. Chapter 8 - What is It Good For?

I sighed and watched Dean turn, pace, turn again in front of the door. Sam and Ellen had been gone for about twenty minutes and my one attempt to talk to Dean had been cut off with a snarled, "Is it an emergency? No? Then what are you supposed to be doing right now, little girl?" which had sent me slinking back to the table and the pad. Dean hadn't been this mad at me in a long time and part of me thought that maybe it wasn't just me who had him so on edge, but I was suffering for it. It was starting to make me mad.

I stopped watching Dean and looked to my left where about half the group of survivors were clustered around the priest, their heads bowed in prayer. If Dean and Cas were to be believed, it would do them no good, so I turned back to the pad and scrawled my last line. Finally. I ripped the pages off, stood up, and stalked over to Dean, stopping in front of him and shoving the stack against his chest, hard. "There," I snapped at him. "I'm done. You can stop riding me now."

Dean automatically clutched the papers to his chest, his expression surprised, but it darkened again almost immediately. He glanced to the side at the people there, the ones who weren't praying watching us closely, and then grabbed my arm and pulled me past everyone across the room to the raised platform. I half-jogged to keep up with him, stumbling when he stopped and pulled me in front of him, my back against the wood-paneled wall, the pistol digging into me. Once there, he let me go and glowered down at me, the stack of lines in his left hand.

Fists clenched at my sides, I met his eyes with furious indignation until, in a quiet, steady tone meant only for my ears, he asked, "Where are you supposed to be right now?"

I frowned, caught off guard. "I don't know," I said after a second. "Sitting at that stupid table, twiddling my stupid thumbs?"

"You're supposed to be sitting in the car, finished with your lines and playing your PSP; safe," he said, holding up the lines. "Where are you instead?" Heat flared through me and my stomach dropped. My courage fleeing, I looked away from him. "Look at me, little girl," Dean demanded, and when I didn't, couldn't obey, he put his right hand under my chin and dragged my head up so I couldn't avoid him. "Instead, you're in the basement of a church in a town surrounded by demons, your life in danger. Aren't you?"

I swallowed hard. "Yes," I whispered, opening my fists and clasping my hands behind my back. He let go of my chin, but I didn't dare look away from him now.

"There's not a damn thing I can do about any of it right now, but you are in a load of trouble and you can be sure I am not done 'riding you'," he growled, stepping back and leaning down. His voice dropped, "And I'm keeping track of every single, tiny bit of disobedience." He tilted his head down and raised his brows. "We'll be discussing it when this crisis is over. You understand me, little girl?"

All the fight flew out of me. "Yes, Dean," I murmured, dragging one foot back behind the other and running it up and down the back of my calf. He handed me back the lines and I took them, much subdued. Putting his hand behind my neck, he led me over to the chair I'd vacated.

"Sit," he said. "And stay there." He stood there and watched me slide into the chair, my head lowered, and then he resumed pacing in front of the door. I set the papers down and buried my head in my arms on the table, fighting the urge to cry. He'd said I was in a load of trouble, which is what always happened when I put myself in danger, but it still hurt. My thoughts went to the pistol in the back of my waistband. I wasn't supposed to have it. I wasn't supposed to touch the guns without explicit permission from Dean or Sam, and I knew it. It had been drilled into me when they'd taught me to shoot when they were training me.

But it was the only normal weapon I had. Ellen still had the knife she'd taken from me, and all I had besides that was my fire. That's why I took the gun in the first place and that's why I hadn't told anyone I had it yet. If I hauled my fire out into use, the entire rest of the town would know what I could do, and I was supposed to keep that a secret, right? On the other hand, Dean was really, really mad, and if he found out that I had the pistol, I wasn't sure what he'd do. I could try to keep it a secret, sneak it back into the glove box in the car, but if I got caught, well, he might be mad enough to send me away to Bobby's…

I raised my head to look at Dean pacing in front of the door. Biting my lip, I sat up straighter and turned my entire chair so I was facing him. Normally I would have gone over to him, but he'd told me to stay. "Dean?" I called quietly.

He turned to look at me. "What is it now?" he asked gruffly.

I glanced at the people behind me praying, at the pregnant lady lying on the cot and the man sitting next to her. "I have to tell you something," I half-whispered. He sighed and came over to me, crouching in front of the chair. "You're going to be mad," I warned with pleading eyes.

"Just spit it out," he said tiredly.

"Before I followed you into town, I took the pistol from the glove box," I said.

"You what?" he hissed at me. He cut himself off before he said anything else and dropped his head, his fists clenching.

"I'm sorry," I said. "It was a mistake. I know it's not the best time…"

"Where is it?" he interrupted. I reached back behind my back and pulled the gun out of my waistband, handing it to him. He took it, and getting to his feet, shoved it under the back of his jacket before stalking away from me. I sighed and turned back to the table. I guess it could have gone worse. I turned back to the table and buried my head in my arms again.

Not five minutes later, Ellen banged on the door to be let in, and she came in alone. Dean asked where Sam was and Ellen just shook her head as she sat down at the table with us. The survivors around us started to get really upset, wondering if demons could get into the basement with us, but Dean said they couldn't. He grabbed his shotgun and headed towards the door. But then he stopped, dropped his head, and seemed to fight with himself before turning to come back towards us. He said that we needed a plan. He told Ellen to tell him everything and took the chair next to mine.

Ellen explained what had happened while they were out, and while they were talking, the rest of the survivors started putting together the supplies. I rested my head on my arms again and tried to listen to them, but they were talking low and between last night's nightmares and today's excitement, I was exhausted. The murmur of Dean's deep voice as he talked to Ellen was soothing, and before I knew it, Dean was picking me up and carrying me to one of the cots against the wall. I was barely aware of him lying me down and running a hand over my hair before I dropped off completely.

I don't think I was out long. My dream started out with fire and guns, and I jerked awake from that in time to hear Dean saying, "If War is a dude and he's here, maybe he's messing with our heads."

"Turning us on each other," Ellen added to that.

"You said Jo called you a black-eyed bitch. They think we're demons, we think they're demons," Dean said. "What if there are no demons at all and we're all just killing each other?"

I got up then and went over to Dean. He glanced at me but didn't say anything. The group was trying to wrap their heads around what Dean was saying when a loud banging came at the door and Roger's voice came through the door. I backed up into Ellen as Austin went to answer the door. Roger burst into the room claiming that he saw the demons, that they knew we're trying to leave, and that they were going to pick us off one by one. Things got confusing then. Austin started questioning Dean's idea at the same time Dean was trying to get information out of Roger since no one had seen him leave. I pressed into Ellen and she put her hand on my shoulders. I couldn't follow the conversation. Austin wanted to go after the demons, Dean was telling him to slow down, to think about it. Austin started grabbing rifles, handing them out. Dean looked at Roger, who winked at him and then turned his ring.

I doubled over as as my furnace bulged dangerously. Struggling for control, I clamped down on it hard, all my attention inward, fighting the furnace as the door inched open. I heard someone yell something about demons and then I was being pulled along, but I couldn't keep track. All I could pay attention to was the fact that my furnace was going to explode and I had to keep that from happening in the church full of people. A gun went off. Someone scooped me up, and I bounced along as whoever it was carried me as I fought and fought with my furnace.

"What's wrong with her?" I heard Ellen half-pant, half-yell. "Why is she glowing?"

I didn't hear Dean's answer as my furnace pulsed and throbbed. "Dean!" I screamed.

"I'm gonna put you down, sweetheart," Dean said into my ear. "You're burning me. You let it go at that house over there. You see it?"

I pried my eyes open into the bright sunlight. He was pointing to a white, wood frame house with green shutters. There were no cars in its driveway. "Is it empty?" I gasped out before another wave of heat and pain rolled through me. Dean set me on my feet. I bent over double and even then, couldn't hold myself up. My head was throbbing and throbbing, I fell to my knees, burning from the inside out.

"Yes," he answered. "Let it go."

I didn't have enough control to extend a tendril. I just opened the furnace and pushed as hard as I could at the house. There was so much there to burn. I pushed and pushed, pain flowing into a pleasure that swirled from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet. My entire body tingled with goosebumps as the flames towered into the sky on the second floor of the house, smoke billowing into the air. The roof collapsed into the second floor and then second floor collapsed into the first. The pressure eased, but the tinging remained. The first floor of the house burned more slowly without my fiery strength pouring into it. My furnace was mine again. My face flushing with the shame of losing control, I extended a tendril. Connecting to the remaining fire, I pulled it into me and locked the furnace, putting the little house out.

Getting to my feet, I turned to Dean with angry eyes. "You didn't actually know it was empty, did you?" I asked accusingly.

"Chances were high that it was empty," he said flatly. "The other option was that you explode and kill all three of us, and then this town would be completely screwed."

I swallowed and glanced at Ellen. She was staring at me with wide eyes and a white face. Dean looked from her to me and back. Then he grabbed my hand. "Let's get moving before Roger, a.k.a. the horseman War, gets those people to come after us. We've still gotta convince Rufus and Jo and get to Sam."

I jogged after them and when Dean stashed me behind the shed outside the house that Rufus, Jo, and Sam were holed up in, I didn't argue, and I stayed. I stayed, even though I heard an explosion and the sounds of fighting, with my head bent and my hands over my ears. After a bit, Dean called my name and I went to him at a run. Rufus frowned when he saw me, and I followed the two of them into the house where I got to see Jo for the first time, a short blonde wearing hunter's clothes, a younger version of Ellen. Dean was telling Ellen that we needed to find War when shots came from behind us. Dean asked where Sam was and Rufus said he was upstairs. Dean took the stairs two at a time with me hot on his heels.

As soon as Sam saw us, he said, "Dean, it's not demons. It's War."

"I just can't figure out how he's doing it," Dean said as he cut through Sam's bonds.

"The ring," Sam said.

"The ring. The ring—that's right. He turned it right before he made everybody hallucinate and go hell bitch," Dean said. "Jessie, find a place to hide. Sam, we've got to move. Come on." The two of them took off out the door and down the stairs.

I looked for a place to hide, somewhere bullets couldn't get me, but there wasn't one in this room. Scared at the sounds of bullets firing outside, I turned and ran down the hall to a closed door. I pulled it open expecting to find a closet, but instead I found stairs leading up. "The attic," I said. "Even better." I took the stairs two at a time. I hid amongst the trunks and boxes, hoping that they'd stop any bullets that came after me, and waited.

It was a couple of hours before Dean called my cell phone and woke me out of a light doze. Rubbing my eyes, I came down to find all five hunters in the kitchen of the house. Dean and Sam had their bags with them. The survivors were taking care of the wounded in the living room, all of them wearied and worn. Sam and Dean were saying their goodbyes. I hugged Rufus and shook hands with Jo, who looked at me with frank curiosity. I didn't say anything. Ellen could tell her whatever she needed to know.

Then I was standing in front of Ellen, unsure of my reception, but she bent down and enfolded me in a huge hug. "I understand why they took you now," Ellen said, stepping back to grasp me by my upper arms, smiling down at me. "That's a powerful weapon that you've got there."

"I know," I said softly. "I hate it."

"Don't hate it, baby girl," she leaned down to whisper to me. "Having it isn't what matters. How you use it is."

I nodded a little and she kissed my cheek. "Can I have the knife back?" I asked, not meeting her eyes as she stood back up.

"I already gave it to Dean," she said. "And I talked to him a bit about what's it like to have a daughter." She looked over at Jo, who was deep in a conversation with Sam.

I blinked. "I wish I could have heard that," I said frankly.

She laughed. "What parents talk about isn't for kids' ears," she said.

I rolled my eyes, but then smiled at her. "Thanks, Ellen."

"You're welcome, baby girl," she said. I hugged her again and went over to Dean, who was talking to Rufus. I wrapped my arms around Dean's left arm and leaned into him for comfort. He looked down at me before shaking Rufus's hand. Then Sam, Dean, and I started the long walk back to the car.


	9. Chapter 9 - Absolutely Nothing

**AN: Sorry for the delay in posting. Birthday, ill health, blah blah. Anyway, here it is. Thank you, as always, for reading!**

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We walked the road in silence with me trailing slightly behind the guys. The guys were walking side by side, a wall in front of me. Sam's shoulders looked tired but Dean's looked tense, like the job wasn't quite over yet. Empty houses and stores stood on either side of the street in silent regard of our slow march through town. The eerie quiet in a town that should be busy with people this late in the afternoon was off-putting. I rubbed my neck and glance to the right at the sporting goods store and to the left at a split level ranch with a car overturned in front of it. Neither of the guys seemed like they wanted to talk, but if they tried to make me walk in silence all the way to my doom, I thought I might just lose it.

"Roger was War?" I asked to the two broad backs in front of me. "His powers were controlled by that ring he was always fiddling with, and when you guys cut the ring off his finger, he lost his powers and basically just disappeared after that with that red mustang?"

Dean's back had stiffened further when I started speaking, if that was possible, and he shook them a little before he answered me without turning around. "That's right."

I thought back to when Roger had been locked in the room with us and how every time he looked at me or spoke to me, he'd touched that ring and my nerves had gone nuts. "Where'd he go when he disappeared from the room and we didn't notice?"

"Over to Rufus and Jo's house where he said he could see into me, admitted he was War, and used his ring to make Rufus and Jo think that I'd attacked him," Sam explained. "Then they beat the snot out of me and poured more salt down my throat."

"And then he came back to the church and when we didn't fall for his line, he twisted the ring to give Ellen and me black eyes and to make your furnace blow up," Dean said tightly. The shaking he'd done hadn't helped. His shoulders were just as tight as ever.

"Your furnace blew up?" Sam turned around to look at me and started walking backwards, concern etched across his face.

I shrugged and looked down at my feet moving forward on the asphalt. "It was fine. I mean, I'd just burnt that tree this morning and I wasn't due or anything, and then Roger, I mean War, just made it overflow. I'd've killed all the people in the church if Dean hadn't carried me out."

Sam turned back around and looked at Dean, who said, "That's what happened. Once we got outside, I pointed her at a house and told her to let it go."

I remembered the house burning, the walls falling in, the roof falling into the second floor falling into the first. Helplessness and worry washed over me in a wave of fury. "You didn't even know it was empty. You pointed me at a house and you didn't even know for sure!" I yelled at Dean. "It could have been full of people!"

Dean stopped and turned around all in one fluid, angry movement. "I wouldn't have had to make that decision if you'd stayed in the car like I God damn told you to." His head lowered, he watched me under dark brows for a second before walking towards me. Blanching, I almost tripped myself scrambling backwards as he said, "You took the pistol from the car without permission, followed us into a town we thought was full of demons, where you could have gotten killed by Ellen if her trigger finger had been even a little itchy." His voice got louder and louder with each sentence, his expression furious. "War read your mind and messed with you and then almost turned you into a human bomb." I didn't dare take my eyes off of him. "And through the entire thing, you were rude, impatient, and angry." I backed into what felt like a car door, looking up into Dean's angry face as he closed the distance between us. "And the whole thing could've been avoided if you'd just stayed PUT!"

"Dean, no!" I said when his hands went to his belt. I really needed to learn to control my temper. "I'm sorry. I should've stayed. I know that." It didn't help. The buckle clanked and he pulled his belt off with the familiar swooshing sound of leather over denim. My voice caught in my throat. "Dean, please! I'm sorry!"

He turned me around, popped the button on my jeans with one hand, and yanked them down. Then he pressed me against the side of the car, holding me there with one hand, and brought the belt down in a searing strike across my panty-clad butt. I shrieked, but didn't move, didn't fight as the belt fell over and over again. I knew I'd screwed up big time and earned this, just like every other time I hadn't followed that order. I stared through the window at the gray interior of the car and and cried as he spanked me. When he was done, he let me go and I pulled my jeans up over my sore, aching behind and turned around, swiping the tears off my face. He was still mad. I could tell from the look on his face as he threaded the belt back through the loops of his jeans, watching me the whole time. I wanted to go to him for comfort, but I couldn't with him looking like that. I made myself stop crying and dropped my eyes, thankful that the town was deserted. Of course, if it hadn't been, he never would've spanked me in the middle of the street.

"You're on lockdown, little girl," Dean growled at me. "You got me?" I crossed my arms over my chest and nodded, not looking at him. "What does that mean?" he demanded.

"I can't leave your sight without permission," I whispered. "I have to ask." I dragged my eyes up from the ground and met his angry gaze. "Does that mean I'm on restriction, too?" I asked.

"No television," Sam said from behind Dean. I kinda leaned so I could see him around dean. He'd taken a seat on the curb, his arms resting on his knees. "No PSP. No computer."

I swallowed and thought about Gabby's stake. "For how long?" I asked.

"Two weeks," Dean said flatly. "And then I'll only be considering letting you off. I can't believe that you followed us into a town full of demons. Next time, I'm leaving you with Bobby." He glared at me. "Now, move. I wanna get back on the road before dark." He pointed in the direction of the car. I moved around him hesitantly, and Sam got to his feet. We resumed the long slow march towards the car, eventually falling into the same position as we were before. Their voices were low as they went over what happened on the hunt some more, trying to figure out if they could have handled it better, their shoulders a wall in front of me again. Dean's shoulders were not as tight now, which wasn't fair.

None of it was fair. Dean spanked me and put me on lockdown, and Sam grounded me, but I wasn't forgiven. Dean was still mad, and he'd said that next time he was leaving me with Bobby. The tears that I had shoved down forced their way back up, choking me. I took a slow, deep breath and let the tears fall silently, my arms around my stomach to try to keep myself from sobbing loud enough that they'd hear me.

It worked for a while. We'd made it out of town and were in the woods when I made a mistake and sniffled loud enough for Dean to hear me. Both of them paused and looked back at me.

"Jessie," Dean said, sighing. "Sweetheart, come here." He held out his hand to me. I took a step forward but then shook my head.

"No," I said quietly, but that only lasted a second before words poured from my mouth like water. "You're mad and you won't listen to me and you don't care that I'm crying or upset and you won't forgive me…" But then he was next to me, pulling me into his arms anyway. I tried to fight him and he wouldn't let me, holding me to him tightly. "Let me go!" I said, and surprisingly, he did. He released me and I stumbled back a little before flinging myself back into his arms and melting down into tears. "I do forgive you, sweetheart," he said, putting one knee into the asphalt and pulling me close, stroking my back. "Sometimes it just takes me a little longer to get over being mad than that. You know that. You do it, too."

"You're gonna make me stay with Bobby!" I cried, wrapping my arms tighter around his neck. "You can't! You can't! Please? It's only safe with you and Sam. That's the only place it's safe." Dean shifted then and I felt him look up.

Next thing I knew, Sam was on one knee next to Dean and in front of me, hand on my shoulder, looking into my face. "Honey, that's the third time you said that today. What do you mean it's only safe with us?"

I choked over the words. "Every time you leave me somewhere, bad stuff happens," I whimpered. "You left me to go kill Lilith and Bobby got possessed on our way to get you and he ended up stabbing himself. You left me in the car to rescue Claire and a demon possessed me. You left me in the car when you went in to find Michael's Sword and I had nightmare after nightmare until…" I stopped then, dangerously close to confessing about Dean's whiskey. Swallowing, my voice dropped even lower as I said, "You guys were working when I accidentally summoned Gabby and killed Alice and everyone else. If I could just stay near you…"

"It's not true, Jessie," Sam said softly, his voice reaching me despite my tears. "You're safer where we leave you than when you chase after us on a hunt. You know it. Aside from the risks you take with yourself and your fire, you were safe when we left you to go hunt the ghost ship. You were safe when we left you in the room at the magician's convention. You were safe when you stayed in the motel room when we were hunting Gordon and when were were hunting those Pagan gods last Christmas. You've had so many more times that you were safe than that you were in danger when we left you somewhere. You remember?" He brushed my bangs out of my eyes. I nodded, remembering a dozen other times when I'd been fine, except for my own mistakes.

"But it was demons this time," I whispered. "And last time, with me and with Bobby…"

Dean pulled back and looked at me. "The car was parked well outside the range of those demons, if they had been demons, and this time you were protected from them with your medallion. You showed me yourself. You should've stayed, even though you were scared. You would have avoided everything that happened, War, the explosion of your furnace, me being angry with you, all of it. We would have come back to find you curled up reading or sleeping in the backseat, no worse for wear. Instead, what happened?"

He frowned at me and I knew he expected an answer. I bit my lip and ran my hand through my hair. "I was in danger and had to burn down a house, and you got mad and spanked me, and now I'm on restriction and lockdown," I said in a small voice. "You couldn't know that, though."

"Odds were in my favor, sweetheart," Dean said dryly. "Try thinking about that before you take off after us next time." He hugged me again and go to his feet. I wrapped myself around Sam's waist and hugged him tight too. Then Sam took my hand. We finished the walk to the car and headed back east.

The drive home was already less rushed than the drive to River Pass. Dean drove slower and we actually stopped for the night at a motel. In the middle of the night, I woke up again from a hellish nightmare. I considered sleeping with Dean, but rejected that idea. It hadn't worked while we were driving to River Pass. There was no reason to think it would work now. Instead, I slid out of the bed and crawled to Dean's duffel bag, digging around until I came up with his flask. I took one big gulp, my eyes watering from the burn, and then closed it back up, stuck everything back where it went, and crawled back to bed to sleep. If two gulps were too many for my furnace, one wasn't. I checked it to make sure it was ok and then closed my eyes to sleep.

We slept late the next day. Sam seemed thoughtful and out of sorts. He kept glancing at me, which made me worry. I didn't think he'd seen me last night, but I couldn't figure out why he kept looking at me. We left the hotel around ten, grabbed a picnic lunch for later, and hit the road.

Around two, we pulled into a park on the side of the mountain road we'd been traveling on and ate. Pine tree-covered hills stretched off in the distance under a bright blue spring sky. There was a playground off to the side with some other kids playing in it. I wished I could go play, too, but I was pretty sure that lockdown and restriction meant I was stuck sitting with the guys.

I'd just finished my sandwich when Dean held the ring he'd been fiddling with since we'd sat down and said, "So, what do you think? Pit stop on Mount Doom?"

Sam looked uncomfortable and he turned his gaze to me, his face set and sad. "Jessie, go play on the playground."

My head shot up. "Really?" I asked.

"Yeah," Sam said. I jumped up, hugged him and ran towards the playground to get on the swings. Swinging on a mountain had the best views. I was high in the air before I realized something was wrong. I turned my head to see Sam taking his backpack and laptop bag out of the car and walking over to a truck.

"Sam!" I yelled, but my voice got lost in the wind. I needed to stop the swings and started dragging my legs on the ground as I slowed down, but he got into the truck before I was really slowed down enough. I yelled again, but again he couldn't hear. Dean was still sitting at the picnic table. What the hell was going on? The truck drove off and I jumped off the swing, landing hard on my feet, only barely keeping myself from toppling over. I took off running after the truck, but it just kept going. "SAM!" I screamed after the truck, confused and scared.

"Jessie," Dean called to me. I turned and ran to him.

"Dean, what's going on? Where's Sam going?"

"Sit," Dean said and I dropped onto the bench seat next to him. "He's taking a break from hunting," Dean said. I started to interrupt, but he cut me off. "He's messed up bad. The demon blood got to him and it's all he can think about now. He wants a break to get his head straight again." Dean sighed. "And I agreed with him. We're going to go our separate ways."

I blinked at him, knowing I wasn't getting the whole story. "But he didn't need the blood anymore. Whatever saved you cleaned him up, and I thought that you said that once you're in, you're in. You can't go back to not being a hunter. You can't get out of the life. That's why you won't let me hunt."

"He needs a break, Jessie, and we're gonna let him have it. We need one, too."

"You need one," I accused. "I don't need a break from Sam. And why didn't you send me with him? You don't want me hunting so bad…"

Dean watched me under lowered brows, frowning, and I realized I was pushing my luck. I flushed as he said, "You still need to kill Gabby. We talked about that, so you're staying with me. We'll see what happens when that's done."

I pouted and crossed my arms over my chest until Dean swung his arm around me and pulled me close. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his chest. "Why didn't he say good-bye, Dean?" I asked in a small voice.

"Sometimes good-bye is too hard, sweetheart," he said, kissing the top of my head while I thought about the odd looks Sam had been giving me all morning. "But he told me to tell you that he loves you and you can call him any time you want." Dean held me for a little longer before asking. "You wanna go back to the swings for a while?" I shook my head and clung to him. I was so tired of losing people. He let me cling for another minute or so and then we got up and got back on the road.


	10. Chapter 10 - Summer of '09

**June**

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I stood outside the card shop, staring into the big picture window where brightly colored Dr. Seuss figures frolicked alongside the pale, serene Hummel statues and stuffed animals eyes followed wherever I went. The thing that had my eye though, the thing that outshone it all was a little red-headed rag doll stuck in the front corner of the display, dressed in tiny jeans and a flowered shirt, her long, curling yarn hair flowing over her little cotton shoulders. It looked just like me, except her eyes were blue.

A crash behind me startled me out of staring and I turned to see Dean trying to manhandle a mattress into the bed of Bobby's truck in front of the thrift store a block down. I gave the rag doll a final look and jogged down the block to help. By the time I reached him, he'd managed to get the mattress settled and had grabbed a piece of rope. Without being asked, I took the other end of the piece of rope and helped him secure the mattress into the bed.

"There you are," Dean admonished as we worked together. "I told you to stay close."

"I wasn't that far away. I was just down there," I pointed to the card store with a wistful expression. "Besides, the thrift store is boring and dirty and you were just buying a mattress for Bobby and it's in the middle of the day. Nothing bad happens here."

Dean snorted as he finished off his knot. "Got any more excuses?" he asked wryly.

I ignored that. "When's Bobby getting back?"

"No idea," Dean said shortly, and we got in the truck to head back towards Bobby's place.

After Sam left us, Dean had called Bobby and told him everything, including that we were going to head back to him, but Bobby had argued and told Dean that with the damn apocalypse happening, Dean needed to be out hunting, not babysitting him. Bobby said that the doctors were going to keep him there another week or two to heal, get him some physical therapy, and then send him home. He said that he didn't need any help and for Dean not to come. Annoyed, Dean had hung up on him, and then we'd headed here, to Sioux Falls, and started working on Bobby's house.

Bobby's old farmhouse had two stories, all the bedrooms were on the second story, and none of it was handicapped accessible. Dean had made it his mission to get it ready for Bobby, so we'd spent the last six days working together building a wheelchair ramp to the porch, adding rails in the bathroom around the toilet, and moving things around so that Bobby would be able to live in his house. The amount of research material Bobby had in the rooms on the second story of his house was astonishing, and now, of course, it was all neatly stacked in piles in his kitchen and library, thanks to yours truly. We'd moved his couch from where it was in front of the window to replace it with a bed so that Bobby would have a place to sleep at night. It was the only place that it would really fit. Making sure Bobby had a bed was one of the last things we were doing before leaving town.

Resting my head on my arm on the door, I stared out the open window at the trees and sky as the old blue truck bounced and bumped over the ruts in the road. The woods around the car smelled of early summer, green and fresh, and I closed my eyes as the wind blew over me and thought about Bobby. When I opened my eyes again a minute or so later, the scenery had changed to broken down cars and rusted metal, and we were turning into Bobby's yard.

Dean and I unloaded the mattress and I helped him wrangle it up the ramp we had built and into the house. While he settled it onto the frame we'd put in, I hunted through the house to find Bobby's store of sheets and blankets. The ones on the bed in his room were so worn that you couldn't even tell what pattern used to be on it. Plus, it didn't seem right to put used sheets on his brand new bed. Finally, in the very bottom, back corner of the last closet that I looked in, I found a pile of sheets and blankets. The sheets were printed darkly with tiny, tasteful shapes. The blankets were clean, dry, and soft, but the top layer of both piles had a thick layer of dust, like Bobby hadn't touched them in years. I wondered if he'd been using the same set in his bedroom since his wife had died.

I yanked a set from the middle of the pile, figuring they'd be the cleanest, gathered Bobby's pillows off his bed, and ran back downstairs to find Dean leaning against Bobby's desk and drinking a beer. I scampered past him to put the sheets on the bed, but the sheets didn't fit. They were too large, which made sense. The whole reason we'd gone to buy a new mattress was because the one upstairs wouldn't fit here. I frowned and yanked on the corners of the sheet futilely as if that would somehow make it shrink just a little.

Sighing loudly, I whirled around and pointed back at the fitted sheet hanging limply off the side of the mattress. "Now what?" I asked, a little annoyed with the half smile Dean was wearing as he watched me.

"Now I show you how to make a bed with military corners," Dean said, putting his beer down on Bobby's desk and rolling up his sleeves.

Half an hour later, the bed was made up with two fresh flat sheets and a blanket. We'd folded up a heavier blanket at the bottom of the bed in case Bobby needed it, but it was getting warmer by the day and before too long, it would be downright hot. Dean and I moved around the house and straightened some things up. I even stripped Bobby's old bed and brought the laundry down and took it to the washing machine.

Dean stopped me. "Leave that. We need to get on the road soon and he has other sheets."

"We haven't shopped yet," I pointed out, turning from the washer. "You drank all his beer and he's got almost nothing left in the pantry." I didn't point out that I'd drank some of Bobby's beer in the last few days and that his whiskey supply was just a little lower than when we'd gotten there. Guilt flushed through me, but I shoved it away. Dean had never told me I couldn't drink. "We need to go restock his food so that he doesn't starve."

Dean smiled at me, dropped his arm around my shoulder, and led me to the car. On the way back into town, we passed the card store. The red-headed rag doll popped back into my mind. "Dean?" I said as we pulled into the parking lot. "I have an idea…"

Two hours later, when we pulled away from Bobby's for the last time, he had a ramp, a bed, his books, a fully stocked pantry and fridge, and a little red-headed rag doll waiting on his bed to keep him company when he finally got home.

**July**

* * *

_I will not go to forbidden websites. I will not go to forbidden websites. I will not go to forbidden websites._ I wrote over and over at the table of the motel while Dean poked and prodded at his new laptop, swearing the whole time. I looked up at him from under my bangs and flushed at the angry look on his face as he glared at the screen. Sam had taken the laptop, so after a couple weeks, Dean had gotten another one, but he hadn't set it up with the same nanny software that Sam had, and he hadn't mentioned anything to me about where I wasn't allowed to go, although he'd take it with him when he went on hunts.

But then last night, he'd put me to bed and gone out to fleece some money out of some unsuspecting bar patrons. I'd found the laptop bag when I'd gone to get the plastic bottle of whiskey I'd started keeping in my duffel bag so that Dean wouldn't notice his missing. I tried to resist, but I couldn't. The same thing that egged me to drink egged me to open the laptop and find that bitch. Besides, the sooner I found her, the sooner I could stop drinking to sleep. I was already having to drink more than I had when I started. So, I pulled the laptop out and set it up.

When he'd gotten back, I'd been deep in the hunters' forum trying to find any hint of Gabby, searching for information on weird cults and fires. It was my last resort. I'd jumped and shut the laptop when he opened the motel room door. He didn't even yell at me. He just hauled me out of the chair, pulled me over to the bed, and started spanking me. I was crying hard when he was done, and then he'd made me stand in the corner while he went and looked at the browser history. He'd been frowning when he shut the laptop and told me to get my ass in bed. I didn't have a chance to take the couple of swallows I'd been taking to sleep.

He woke me up a couple of hours later because I was screaming in my sleep and made me get in bed with him. He held me close and soothed me, telling me that this was why I wasn't allowed on those sites. I was too exhausted and ashamed to argue, to tell him that the nightmares weren't from the sites. I didn't want him to know what I'd been doing. I didn't want him to know how broken I was or he'd never let me find Gabby, never let me kill her, and I thought that might be the only thing that would let me sleep soundly again.

He fell asleep before I did, holding me close to his wide, warm chest. I snuggled into him and cried into his t-shirt, trying not to shake hard enough to wake him up. Eventually, I fell into a light doze with my face nestled in the hollow of his shoulder, my dreams dark and angst-filled, but at least not terrifying. I woke when he tried to slide out from under me, and so he'd taken me to breakfast and told me that I'd be writing lines after I finished my training.

"Call Sam," Dean growled out suddenly.

I looked up from the lines, my hand still moving automatically to write the words over and over. I was getting to be a pro at this stuff. "What?" I asked, confused. I'd been calling Sam at least once a week. He was moving from place to place, still. Working odd jobs, mostly at bars and motels, and not hunting at all. He always sounded tired when I talked to him.

"Call Sam," Dean repeated, getting up from the table with a scowl and getting a beer from the mini-fridge. "Find out what he was using to keep you off those sites and then get him to walk you through setting it up."

I flushed again. "But then he'll know that I…"

"That you what? Went to site you know you're not allowed to? Yeah, he will," Dean said, raising his eyebrows at me as he took a swig of his beer. "Now, Jessie."

Sighing, I put my pen down, went to get my phone, took Dean's seat, and dialed the phone. I dropped my head into my palm and put the phone to my ear.

"Hi, honey." Sam's voice sounded a little tinny through the phone, not the normal rolling tones I was used to. I missed him bad.

"Sam," I whispered and then paused.

"Jessie… You ok?" he asked, his voice concerned. "Is Dean ok?"

I swallowed and glanced up at Dean, who was watching me with his arms crossed over his chest. I cleared my voice. "Uh, yeah. Dean wanted me to call you because I screwed up and now he needs to know what that software you were using was, the one that kept me off the sites you didn't want me on…"

Sam didn't say anything for a second. "Jessie," he said finally. I could hear the frown in his voice. "You know better."

"I know," I said quietly. "I'm already in trouble. Dean's not happy."

"Neither am I, young lady. How many times do we have to go over this with you? You know what sites you're not allowed on. Just because I'm not there doesn't mean that you can go all over the Internet and look at anything you want. You may think you're old enough to handle it, but there's a lot out there that you are just not ready to know. Do you understand me?"

I listened to him scold me for another two minutes, mumbling "I know," and "I'm sorry," when he paused until he finally relented and told me the name of the software. I followed his instructions on downloading it. Then Dean came over and stood behind me as Sam walked me through setting it up, making sure I was on Dean's log in while I did it.

And then we were done.

"All right, honey," Sam said softly. He wasn't mad any more. "You be good and say hi to Dean for me, ok?"

I glanced up at Dean and slid out of his chair, moving to my bed on the other side of the room. "Sam?" I whispered into the phone. "Do you think you'll ever come back?" Sam didn't say anything. "Sam?" I asked after a few seconds.

"I don't know, Jessie," he said roughly. "But not for now."

I fought the tears that were threatening to fall. "But I miss you," I said, my voice cracking.

"I miss you too. You be good for Dean. Stay off those sites." His voice evened out a little now that he was back on normal ground.

"Yes, Sam," I whispered. "I love you."

"Love you, too, squirt," Sam said, and then he was gone.

I hung the phone up and got to my feet. I turned around to head back to the table and ran right into Dean, who enclosed me in his arms and held on tight.


	11. Chapter 11 - Learning Curves

"Hey, squirt, what's up?"

"Nothing… I just wanted to talk to you. Where are you?"

"Gerber, Oklahoma."

"Oh… that's a ways away. We're in Greeley, Pennsylvania. What are you doing?"

"Just got a job at Hoyt's Bar as a bus boy, staying at a motel. Same thing I've been doing, honey. You at a motel?"

"In the car. Dean's at the hospital talking to some doctors about a vamp… Listen, Sam? Have you, are you still doing those searches for Gabby?"

"Of course I am, but I haven't found a thing. No sign in ages."

"Oh…"

"I promise you, Jessie, as soon as I find something you'll know. I take it that you're having the same problem?"

"Yeah. She's just gone. She stopped taking girls and now there's no sign of her anywhere, Sam. How am I going to stop her if I can't find her?"

"She'll turn up eventually. They always do."

"Dean won't let me stay on the laptop long enough to find her. He's been making me do weird chores and book reports and assignments that he doesn't even read. If he'd just let me spend that time searching…"

"Jessie, no. Stop. I'm looking, you're looking, Dean's looking, Bobby's looking. If there was something to find, we'd find it. Stop obsessing over it."

"Can't you talk to him? Please? You haven't talked to him since you guys split. I just know…"

"You ask him to call me?"

"Yeah…"

"What'd he say?"

"That you'd back him up and he had other things he had to do."

"Gabby will turn up, honey. I've gotta go now. My shift starts in five minutes. I promise that I'll call you as soon as I know anything. I love you."

"Bye, Sam. I love you, too."

I flipped the phone shut and dropped it on the seat next to me, annoyed and frustrated. It was the middle of August and hot. Nothing had gone right this summer, nothing. I wanted Sam back, but neither of them would budge and Gabby was still in the wind. I fiddled with the ring on my necklace, remembering my promise to Dean. It was tempting, though. I had the stake. Then I saw Dean coming out of the hospital and dropped my hand.

"Is it a vamp?" I asked as he opened the door.

"It's a vamp," he agreed. "Now to get you settled in a motel and go find the bastard." I opened my mouth and he held up a hand. "Don't ask. The answer's no."

I frowned. "I wasn't going to ask if I could come. I was just going to say I was hungry and ask if we could eat before you go off hunting the stupid thing."

Dean smirked down at me. "Yeah, sure. That's what you were going to ask. Ok, kiddo. Where do you want to go?"

* * *

I was lying on my back on the bed watching television upside down when the door opened and Dean came in, his jacket spattered with blood. He dropped his bag on the floor by the table and shrugged out of the jacket, setting it on the back of one of the chairs.

"So, I guess you got the guy," I said, sliding my eyes away from the television for a minute.

"Yeah, chopped his head off. He won't be killing anyone else. Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

I shrugged and looked back at the television. "I am," I said. "See?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Smart ass," he muttered and disappeared into the bathroom. I watched him go, glad that he wasn't insisting that I go to sleep right now. I hadn't expected him to get back so early. Usually he ended up hunting much later.

The show I was watching finished as Dean got out of the bathroom, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans and the next episode started. "In the criminal justice system, sexually-based offenses are considered especially heinous. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as the Special Victims Unit. These are their stories."

Dean stopped short on his way back to the table and looked from me to the television and back. "What the hell are you watching?"

I sighed and sat up. "Law and Order: SVU," I said. Dean rolled his eyes and shut the TV off before grabbing his jacket. "Oh, come on, Dean! I've already watched like three episodes, and it's good."

"No," Dean said, continuing into the little alcove where the sink was. "You're not watching any more."

"Why?" I whined, following him. "I've seen worse."

He picked up a wash cloth and wet it. "You're too young for those stories."

"It's not rated M!"

Dean set down the washcloth and turned around, frowning at me. "What's it rated?"

"I don't know, but not M! It's on normal TV!"

"Jessie, I don't care what's it's rated. Don't watch it. You got me?"

"That's stupid!" I snapped at him. "There's nothing else on!"

Dean pointed at me. "Don't argue with me or I'll spank your butt and put you to bed where you should've been when I walked in. I said no. Is that clear, little girl?" I shut up and stalked back onto the bed, flushing. Dean watched me for another minute before relenting a little. "You want to help me?" I swallowed and nodded; so he gestured for me to come over and started explaining how to get blood out of a jacket.

We'd been working on the jacket for ten minutes when Castiel was suddenly there. Dean jumped, and I shrieked and clamped down on my furnace out of habit, backing into the wall. Dean gave him shit for scaring the crap out of us both. Cas didn't know anything about Sam being gone and explained that he'd found us because Bobby had told him where we were. While Dean kept getting dressed and cleaning his stuff, Cas explained why he was there. He needed help finding the archangel Raphael to get information. He wanted Dean's help.

Dean looked at me and I moved away from the wall and slid onto the bed. He finished wiping off his knife and crossed the room to put it away, his back to Cas. As he put the knife into his bag, he said, "Give me one good reason why I should do this."

"Because you're Michael's vessel and no angel will dare harm you," Cas said, turning around.

Dean looked at Cas, his face a little angry. "Oh, so I'm your bullet shield."

Cas didn't flinch. He stared earnestly at Dean and said, "I need your help because you are the only one who'll help me. Please."

It was the earnestness and honest please that convinced Dean. As Cas spoke, Dean's face smoothed out and he relaxed a little. After a second, he said, "All right, fine. Where is he?"

"Maine," Cas said. "Let's go." He reached to touch Dean's forehead with his fingers. Dean pulled away at the same time I leapt to my feet.

"Whoa, whoa!" Dean said.

"Hey!" I objected at the same time.

Castiel stopped, looking confused. "What?" he asked.

"Last time you zapped me someplace I didn't poop for a week," Dean said. "We're driving."

But I wasn't done. I stepped forward and shoved Cas. He didn't even budge. "What were you going to do with me?" I demanded. "Leave me here with the car and all the stuff? Jerk!"

Cas looked down at me, his face etched with surprise as Dean pulled me away from him. "Dean leaves you in the motel all the time."

"Yeah," I yelled at him. "For a few hours, not for days! Do you even know how long you're gonna be gone?"

"Jessie, calm down and get your stuff packed up. Go," Dean said and pointed at my bag. I glared at him, but when he raised his eyebrows at me, I turned to obey. I shook his hand off my arm and stalked over to my bag to get my clothes so I could change out of my pajamas. "Cas, you can't just dump a twelve-year-old in a motel and leave her alone for days. Especially not this twelve-year-old. If we go somewhere, we need to make sure she's going to be safe before we go."

Cas shrugged. "I'll send her to Bobby's," he said and moved towards me.

"No!" I shrieked. Panicked, I dropped my bag on the floor and backed up fast until I ran into the wall by the front door. Dean stepped in front of me to stop Cas, aggravated.

"Cas!" Dean said. Cas halted and looked at him. "She's coming with us. Bobby has enough to worry about. Ok?"

"You cannot trust her to do what you say," Cas said flatly. "She cannot come."

Dean turned to me and raised his brows. I stared back with huge eyes. Dean sighed and turned back to Cas. "She'll do what I say, won't you, Jessie?"

"Yes, Dean," I said, my face white.

"Will she do what I say?" Cas asked, looking around Dean at me. Dean turned, too, and I understood that if I didn't agree and obey, I wasn't going to have a choice.

"Yes, Cas," I whispered.

"She'll behave," Dean said. "Are you satisfied?"

Cas nodded once, his eyes locked on mine. "If she does not, I will send her to hell," Cas said.

"What?" Dean roared. My knees felt weak and I stumbled and slid onto the floor, my head light.

Cas's brow furrowed. "Is that not what you do? You tell her to do something and threaten her with a punishment if she disobeys?"

"Jesus, Cas. You can't send her to hell. That's too much," Dean snapped. "Why don't you leave that part to me, ok?"

* * *

I couldn't sleep in the backseat of the car. Dean and Cas talked in low tones about Raphael and where Cas had been hunting for God. I only heard every third word as I struggled to even doze, afraid of the dreams I was going to have without my normal help. My bag was in the trunk, but even if it wasn't, I wouldn't have dared try to take a swig. Eventually, I gave up, sat up, and draped my arms over the back of the front seat.

"You told her to sleep," Cas grumbled. "She doesn't even do that."

"Cas, leave her be," Dean sighed. "You ok, sweetheart?"

"I can't sleep," I said in a quiet, timid voice, glancing at Cas nervously. "What if I have those dreams again?"

"Dreams? What dreams?" Cas asked, sounding alarmed, his expression concerned.

"Just normal nightmares, Cas. Nothing weird. She's been through a lot and she's been having trouble sleeping because of it," Dean explained. "Do you want to switch places with Cas and try to sleep up here with me."

Cas had relaxed a little at Dean's explanation and now he looked thoughtful. "I could put her to sleep."

Horrified, I flung myself back from him, my back hitting the seat so hard that the car shook. "No!" I shrieked.

"Whoa," Dean said, looking at me through the rearview mirror. "Calm down, kiddo. He's not gonna hurt you." He glanced over at Cas. "What do you mean, put her to sleep?"

"I could put her to sleep, no dreams, no nightmares," Cas offered, a slight smile on his face.

"Just for the night?" Dean asked. "She'll sleep straight through?"

Cas nodded. "If that's what you want."

Dean looked at me in the rearview mirror. "Is that what you want, sweetheart?" he asked me, his face concerned. I could tell he wanted me to say yes. He'd been worried about me for months now, but especially since the nightmares had been coming so often, which was even clearer when he was with me at night and I couldn't sneak. Sometimes I wondered if maybe the dreams would've have worked themselves out if I hadn't been drinking. As it was, sometimes they broke through. Sometimes I wondered if maybe I should've told him how bad they'd been all along, but it was too late now.

It would be really nice to have a full night of sleep without having to worry about bad dreams. It would be really nice to give Dean a break, too. I swallowed my fear of Castiel and nodded. Cas smiled and reached for me.

"Wait!" I said. "Let me lie down first or I'll fall." I rolled my eyes at him and lay down, covering myself with the blanket.

"Thanks, Cas," Dean said. I could almost feel the relief in his voice.

"Thanks, Cas," I whispered and then Cas touched my forehead and everything went dark.


	12. Chapter 12 - Angel Hunt

I woke up in a bedroll in a mostly empty, abandoned living room, alone. Bright sunlight shone through the dingy, sheer curtains, magnifying the dust and dirt that covered everything, making the air look hazy. Groaning, I pushed the blanket off me. I hated it when Dean made me stay in an abandoned house. It was just gross. Running my hands up and down my arms, I got to my feet and went in search of a bathroom, hoping against hope that the water would work.

It did, and when I was done, I found my phone on the table in front of the front windows. The clock on the front of the phone read one p.m. I blinked. I'd slept over twelve hours, with no dreams and no nightmares. I hadn't slept that long, with or without alcohol, in months. And, I actually felt ok. I wished Cas was there so I could thank him, then flipped the phone open and found a text from Dean. "Call me" was all it said, so I did.

Dean answered the phone without preamble. "You just wake up?"

"Yeah," I said. "I feel so much better. Can you thank Cas for me?"

"Sure," he said. "I left some food in the cooler for you. Eat breakfast and then do your training, but stay at the house. Ok?"

"Yeah… When will you be back?"

"We're leaving the police station now and heading down to St. Pete's hospital to check on Raphael's vessel. Raphael made an appearance and then just left the guy. I'll call you after and let you know."

And then I was on my own for a few hours. I dug the sandwich Dean had left me out of the cooler, ate it, and did all my training. The water in the bathroom worked, probably because Dean had turned it on, but there was no shower head, so the water poured out of the pipe that the shower head attached to. It was like showering in a cold hose. It was a good thing that it was August and still hot.

My phone started ringing as I was drying off with one of the beat up towels we had. Dean told me that he was on his way back, but that Cas had taken off to parts unknown to do god knew what after they'd found Raphael dazed and drooling at St. Pete's. With nothing else to do while we waited for Cas, Dean took me out to get some food and then took me to see the new Harry Potter movie. It was after eleven when we got back to the house and Cas still wasn't back.

I plopped down at the rickety old table at the front of the house and heeled off my shoes while Dean did a quick walk through of the house, just to make sure Cas really hadn't come back yet. I was sending Sam a text telling him about seeing the movie when Dean came back into the room.

"Ok, kiddo, it's bed time for you." Dean said, coming to stand next to me at the table. His hand dropped down on the back of my chair.

My head shot up. "What? Dean! I haven't even been awake twelve hours!" I objected.

"Maybe not, but you've been yawning for the last hour. You need more sleep." He plucked the phone from my hand and clicked it shut. "It's not like you got anything else to do. Go on."

I glared up at him, knowing he was right, but not wanting to face sleep. "What about…?" I started.

Dean smiled at me. "You got get your pajamas on," he said. "I'll set up the charcoal so you can burn off your excess. Then I'll get you settled in the bedroll, and I'll stay in there with you. We'll keep those nightmares away." I relaxed a little at his words and hoped that maybe the fact that I hadn't had any the night before meant I'd be ok. I scuffled off to get ready for bed.

* * *

_Orange and red flame danced up and across the school walls, dancing this way and that, bowing towards me. It loved me; it worshiped me. It longed to do my bidding. I relaxed into the warmth and adoration of my flame, my fire. It coated me, replacing my jeans and t-shirt with a flowing dress of fire, the skirt whirling around me of its own accord. I pressed down on the flame and it bent to my will, flaring out and down. Laughing, I scooped some of the flame from the walls, pushed it and pulled it, shaped it into a blade, a sword of fire. Thrilled with the discovery, the possibilities, I brandished my new sword, sweeping it through the lockers. The metal warped and melted under the blade. I laughed and swept again, chopping through the lockers from floor to ceiling now. I twirled around, my fiery skirt flaring up and out, and thrust the sword through the middle of one of the lockers._

_Someone screamed. I gasped and pulled the sword back. The door fell off the locker I had stabbed and Ella fell out, blood pouring from her chest. I dropped the fire sword and it fell on her, setting her on clothing on fire. She screamed and burned before my eyes. Then another locker door fell, and another, and another. Sister Grace fell, Ella's two friends, Audra, and Rasa. The lockers kept opening and people kept falling out, dead or dying, marks from my fire sword all over them. I didn't know! I didn't know they were in there! I'd just been trying new things. I'd thought the lockers were empty. Frantically, I pulled the fire into me, anxious to stop it, but it was too late. The bodies lay slumped and still on the floor, steaming and smoking, and there was nothing I could do to change it._

_Nothing could save them._

I opened my eyes to an empty room. I could hear Dean and Cas rumbling at each other in the other room. My face was wet and my heart was pounding. I'd been crying in my sleep. That was new. At least it wasn't screams. I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest, hugging them. I didn't even want to think about that nightmare, what it might mean. Who cared? I just wanted to get some sleep. I thought about the whiskey in my duffel, but I'd heard Cas's voice in the other room. Maybe he'd help me again… that would be better than drinking. I rolled to my feet and crept towards their voices.

"You have been with women before. Right? Or an angel, at least?" Dean was asking. After a pause, he said, "You mean to tell me you've never been up there doing a little cloud-seeding?"

"I've never had occasion, okay?" Cas said.

"All right," Dean said with finality. "Let me tell you something. There are two things I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay. Two, you are not gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch. Let's go."

I stepped into the room. "Dean?"

Dean stopped, tensed up and turned to me. "You have a nightmare, sweetheart?"

I shoved down the stab of hurt that I felt at his reaction. "Where are you going?" I asked.

He looked uncomfortable. "We have a ritual tomorrow morning at sunrise to summon Raphael, and Cas here isn't sure…" He paused and I realized that he was trying to soften whatever he was saying. "Well, Cas has some things he needs to do before."

I stared at him. "You know, I heard what you were saying. Cas thinks he's going to die and you want him to get laid first."

Dean blinked at me, opened his mouth, and then shut it. I smiled despite myself. Dean glared at me, but I knew he wasn't serious. "Go back to bed, Jessie," he said, taking a step towards me.

"Wait," I said, serious now. "I did have a nightmare." Dean stiffened again, looking worried. "I was just wondering…" I looked at Cas. "Cas, can you do the same thing you did last night? Make it so I can sleep without dreams again?"

Cas nodded. "Of course," he said. He followed me back to my bedroll where Dean tucked me in.

"Sleep well," Dean said, the worry in his voice apparent. I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him.

"Maybe not for quite so long this time, ok, Cas?" I said when Cas knelt down next to me. Cas glanced at Dean and Dean nodded. Then Cas touched me and everything went dark.

* * *

When I woke up the next day, I was in the back of the Impala, stretched out across both seats. There was a bottle of water on the floorboard on top of my purple duffel, and the little light was blinking on my phone. I grabbed the water and drank half the bottle all at once. Then I picked up my phone. It was noon. Cas had definitely not listened to me. Sighing, I flipped the phone open to read the text from Dean. He'd sent it at six in the morning.

"In Raphael's room in St. Pete's. Food in front seat. Stay put."

I groaned. That was easy for him to say. I had to pee. I texted him back and told him that.

"Use the hospital bathroom, then go back to the car," was the next text. Rolling my eyes, I opened my duffel so I could change before I went into the hospital. I used their bathroom and then went back to the Impala to eat. I had nothing much to do, so I played on the PSP until the battery died and then I read for a little bit. They were taking a long time, and I wondered why they hadn't left me at the abandoned house. Dean had his reasons, I was sure. Probably something to do with my safety, but sitting in the car was boring.

Around three, I'd had enough of the car, and I texted Dean to ask if I could go for a walk. I was surprised when he said yes. He told me not to go far, to turn on the GPS on my phone, and to text him every half hour so he knew where I was. But, under no circumstances was I to go find him in the hospital. So I went for a walk and found a library. I'd had a lot of time to myself in libraries over the summer, and I'd spent the time searching up and reading Chuck Shurley's books. If Dean ever found out that I'd been reading them, he'd be pissed, but I was through a good half of them, not in order, and I understood Sam and Dean a little better now. I was almost all the way through the one called "Croatoan," which was about this virus that Azazel, the yellow-eyed demon, had created. It was blood-borne and infected people were violent and murderous. The demons had unleashed it on a town and Sam and Dean had gone there because of a vision Sam had had. Turned out that Sam was immune to the virus and at the end of the day, the infected townsfolk had disappeared.

I managed to finish the book even though the librarian kicked me out of the library at six. It was still light out so I walked down to the park that I'd passed on my way from the car. I spent an hour or so playing on the playground there. Then some kids talked me into playing soccer with them because they were short a person, but I wasn't very good at it. At seven-thirty, my phone buzzed with a text from Dean telling me to go back to the car. I said goodbye to the kids and headed back.

When I reached the car, Cas was inside and Dean was sitting on the hood waiting for me. "Have a good time?" he asked when I reached him.

"Yeah," I said as we got in the car. "Did you find out what you needed to know from Raphael?"

"Raphael did not show up," Cas said flatly as Dean started the car.

"But I thought it was a summoning ritual for him," I said.

"You cannot force an angel to come," Cas said.

We stopped to eat and then drove back to the house. I told Dean about I'd done all day, leaving out the details on what book I'd been reading, of course. I was still chattering away at Dean when he opened the door to the house.

"Dean, wait," Cas said suddenly, but it was too late. The door was open, and inside, in the archway between the two main rooms, was Raphael, lightning sparking around him like wings.

"Wow," I said even as I opened my furnace, unable to help myself.

"Stay back," Dean said to me, his voice low. "Lock it up." I stayed where I was, clamping down on my furnace tightly, while the two of them went further in the room. Raphael's vessel was handsome, dark skinned, and wide eyed, and the angel possessing him made him terrifying. He blacked out the house, and he claimed, the eastern seaboard. Raphael spoke of smiting us all, of taking Dean to Michael, of torturing Dean. Dean was mocking and dismissive in response, but his expression was uncertain as he got a beer and took a gulp. Then Raphael took a step towards Dean and Dean's face eased. Smiling, Dean flipped open his lighter and tossed it down on the ground, surrounding Raphael in a circle of holy fire.

I suddenly understood why Dean had taken me with them today. He hadn't wanted me in the house alone if Raphael showed up here, and they'd prepared this little trap for him. I'd bet anything that there were similar circles in the other rooms as well, just in case.

As the fire stretched up waist high in the circle around Raphael, it called to me, stronger than any fire I'd felt up until now. It urged me to connect to it, to feed it. It seemed to speak to me. It wanted to be in me. It wanted to be one with me, to cleanse me. I lost track of what Dean and Cas were doing and fell to my knees, fighting the call of this fire. Their words flowed over me, mostly unheard. Something about God being dead. I couldn't help it. I opened my furnace and reached towards the fire.

"Jessie!" Dean's voice broke through the song of the flame. "Lock it up!" My head snapped up. His back to Raphael, his brow was furrowed as he watched me. Swallowing, I shoved the tendril back into me, concentrating now on keeping the furnace locked, on Dean's voice, his angry words directed at Raphael. "And? What, you and the other kids just decided to throw an apocalypse while he was gone?" He sounded like he did when he scolded me.

"We're tired," Raphael answered thoughtfully. "We just want it to be over. We just want," he looked at Cas, "paradise." He looked lost, sad.

Dean wasn't done though. He was in full-on lecture mode. I was glad he wasn't chastising me. "So, what, God dies and makes you the boss and you decide you can do whatever you want?"

"Yes," Raphael said, anguished. His voice hardened. "And whatever we want, we get." The windows crashed in and, Dean and Cas ducked, rain showering through and soaking them and the room. I stayed crouched by the front door, protected from the glass and the rain, and protected in his circle of holy fire, Raphael stayed dry.

Cas asked who brought him back if it wasn't God, and Raphael said that it was Lucifer. Looking unhappy and uncertain, Cas turned away from him. "Let's go," he said to Dean.

"Castiel, I'm warning you," Raphael said. "Do not leave me here. I will find you."

Cas stopped and seemed to consider. "Maybe one day," he said. "But today, you're my little bitch." He stalked past me, out the front door.

Dean smirked, paused, and said, "What he said." Then he put his hand on my neck and led me out of there after Cas, the storm raging round us.

"I'm sorry!" I said to him as he steered me towards the car. "I couldn't help it. It called to me!"

"Shush," he said sharply. "Get in the car. We're getting out of here."

We sat in silence for about ten minutes after we got in the car. I slid down in the back seat, uncertain whether Dean was angry with me. He kept looking at me in the rear view mirror, a scowl on his face. Finally, when I met his eyes in the mirror, he started in on me. "How many times do I have to tell you?" he demanded. "Keep your fire locked up when there are angels around. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

I looked away from him. "It wasn't the same this time," I said quietly, staring at my feet on the floor. "It was the holy fire."

"The holy fire?" Dean prompted when I didn't say anything for a minute.

"It wanted me to connect to it," I said and dragged my eyes up to meet his in the mirror. "It wanted me to take it into me, to make it part of me."

"No," Cas said. "Raphael wanted you to pull the fire into you. He could tell what you are. If you had done that, he would have killed us all."

I stared at the back of Cas's head. "No," I whispered, appalled at what I'd almost done. I felt the blood drain from my face.

"Yes," Cas said without emotion.

"Keep it locked up," Dean said. "You got me?"

"Yes, Dean," I said. Then I lapsed into silence. I needed to practice more. I needed to learn to fight the call of the fires that were lit around me. If I could be used like that… I'd call Bree tomorrow. She'd been helping me all summer. She'd give me some things to do to practice, I hoped.

An hour later, Dean told me to lie down and go to sleep. I didn't argue, but since I also didn't want to miss anything they talked about, I also didn't ask Cas to put me to sleep. It was another half hour of silence before Dean asked Cas quietly if he was ok. When Cas didn't answer, Dean told him that he'd spent his life looking for his dad when all logic said that his dad was dead, but Dean was sure he was alive. He asked Cas what Cas believed. Cas said that he believed that God was out there, and Dean told him to go find him. Cas asked about Dean.

"What about me?" Dean asked. "I don't know. Honestly, I'm good. I can't believe I'm saying that, but I am, I'm really good."

"Even without your brother?" Cas asked.

"Especially without my brother. I mean, I spent so much time worrying about the son of a bitch," Dean said. "I mean, I've had more fun with you in the past twenty-four hours than I've had with Sam in years, and you're not that much fun. It's funny, you know, I've been so chained to my family, but now that I'm alone, with Jessie, hell, I'm happy."

And then Cas was gone.

I lay in the back seat and stared at the ceiling, thinking about what Dean said. He worried too much. He worried about Sam. He worried about me. He shouldn't have to. I thought about how he'd tensed up the night before when I'd appeared after my nightmare. I was going to have to hide them better. I didn't want him to worry about me and if that meant making sure he didn't know I was having nightmares, then so be it.

My duffel was on the floorboard. I opened it up and dug to the bottom, fishing out the plastic bottle of whiskey. I opened it quietly and took a big swig before burying it back at the bottom. Then I closed my eyes to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13 - Prelude to the Future

"Come on, sweetheart," Dean said, shaking me awake. "We're here."

I dragged my eyes open, groggy from sleep, and stared at him. "Where's here?" I grumbled, sitting up. I ran my hand through my hair and pushed the blanket off me.

"Kansas City," Dean said. "Grab your shoes, come on." He grabbed my duffel from the floor and waited by the open door.

We'd left Maine two days ago, and Dean was driving west looking for his next case. It seemed like he never stopped, lately. Sometimes it seemed like he was trying to drive himself into the ground. At least we were stopping at night most of the time, because Dean was adamant that I get enough sleep. If we weren't stopped by ten, he'd tell me to go to sleep in the back seat. Last night, it had been after midnight when we'd finally stopped at a motel for a few hours. I'd gotten a lot more sleep than he had, and before we'd left to get on the road this morning, he'd made me run through my training exercises. Then, back on the road for hours and hours. I was getting really good at sneaking the whiskey. I kept the duffel behind his seat and I'd slide the bottle out, take a quick gulp and then put it away. So far, I'd been lucky.

Once my shoes were on my feet, Dean helped me out of the car. He slung his bag and mine over his shoulder, put his hand on the back of my neck and steered me towards the hotel, where some guy in a cheap and overlarge suit was handing out flyers and asking people if they were rapture-ready.

"Ignore him," Dean murmured to me when I tensed as we passed him. I kept my head down, but it didn't help. The guy chased after us, holding up his flyers.

"Excuse me, friend, but have you taken time out to think about God's plan for you?" the man asked, holding up a pamphlet that said "GOD IS LOVE" on the front.

Dean stopped and turned to him. He looked him up and down once. "Too friggin' much, pal," he quipped and then steered me into the hotel and up to the check-in counter. I leaned against the counter and zoned out while he talked to the clerk. Seemed like the whiskey I'd drank three hours ago had was out of my system, but I felt a little weird anyway. Maybe it was just that I was tired, but everything seemed a little hazy. I looked towards the front door and on the other side, the man in the cheap, overlarge suit was standing on the other side of the door, watching us. Then he closed his eyes and bowed his head, clasping his hands in front of him.

I furrowed my brow. That seemed weird…

"Come on, sweetheart. The sooner we get you to bed, the better," Dean said. I looked up at him as he scooped the key up from the counter. When I looked back out the door, the guy was gone. I shook my head and followed Dean down the hall and up to the second floor. The room was smaller than most with a black dresser on the far wall by the bathroom and a kitchenette with a white counter and black cabinets. The bottom half of the walls were covered in a square patterned, reddish-orange wallpaper and the top half was a dark teal blue. A single pleather-covered, armless chair was tucked between the kitchenette counter and the window, and the one double bed was pushed up against the same wall as the door and covered in a white, crocheted bedspread that looked like someone's grandma made it.

"Lovely," I muttered and set down my duffel. It was a gazillion times better than another abandoned house.

We'd just got my roll-away bed set up when his phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket. "It's Cas," he said. "Go get your pajamas on, sweetheart." He flipped open the phone. "Yeah?" I disappeared into the bathroom.

Five minutes later, I was dressed in my pajamas and staring at my half-empty bottle of whiskey, trying to decide if I should drink more. I sighed and shoved it deep back into the duffel, my hand grazing the box with Gabby's stake in it. I'd just leave the duffel in here. That way, if I had trouble sleeping, I could just claim I had to pee and come take the gulp then. I chewed my lip and wondered, not for the first time, what Dean would think if he knew.

When I came out of the bathroom, Dean was still on the phone."We're talking about the Colt, right? I mean, as in the Colt?" I walked by him and got into bed. He tugged the red and orange-striped curtains closed. "Well, that doesn't make any sense. I mean, why would the demons keep a gun around that, uh, kills demons?"

He turned towards me, still listening to Cas. He came over and pulled the covers up around my neck. He kissed my forehead, then straightened up and laughed. "You know, it's kind of funny. Talking to a messenger of God on a cell phone. It's, you know, like watching a Hell's Angel ride a moped." He walked over to the kitchenette counter. "Okay, all right," he soothed. "I'm telling you, Cas, the mooks have melted down the gun by now."

I rolled over and closed my eyes, trying to block out his conversation. It was hard. He was pacing the room as he talked. Finally, he sat down on the bed and told Cas that he was in Kansas City in Century Hotel, Room 113. Then, sounding alarmed, he said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. No, no, come on, man. I just drove like sixteen hours straight, okay? I'm human. And there's stuff I got to do… Eat, for example. In this case, sleep. I just need like four hours once in a while, okay? … Okay, so, you can pop in tomorrow morning." He flipped the phone closed.

"Cas is coming?" I asked.

"Yeah," Dean said. "In a few hours." He turned the light by his bed out. "Go to sleep, sweetheart. I'll wake you up when he's here."

I closed my eyes and lay there… and lay there… and lay there. An hour later, after Dean's breathing had evened out, I gave up, got out of bed, and went to the bathroom for a gulp.

I woke up again when I heard the refrigerator open and shut and Dean's quiet voice. "So, you're his vessel, huh? Lucifer's wearing you to the prom?" I opened my eyes. A blanket had been pulled over my head, probably Dean's attempt to keep me asleep. I supposed that was just as well. This way he wouldn't be able to tell I was awake. I could hear his footsteps as he paced around the room. "Just when you thought you were out, they pull you back in, huh, Sammy?" Dean said.

I caught my breath. Sam! This was the first time they'd talked since Sam had left! I held very still. "What are you looking for?" Dean asked. He paused. "I guess I'm a little numb to the earth-shattering revelations at this point… What do you want to do about it?"

I would have killed, killed to hear what Sam was saying, but there was no way. Dean was on the other side of the room and if he knew I was awake, he might send me out of the room. I held my breath as Dean said in a resigned voice, "Sam…" He paused again as Sam said something else, and then he said in a sarcastic tone, "Oh, so, we're back to revenge, then, are we? Yeah, 'cause that worked out so well last time… So, what, you're just gonna walk back in and we're gonna be the dynamic duo again?"

He sighed and said, "Look, Sam…" I heard him cross the room again. "It doesn't matter… whatever we do." Not able to stand it any longer, I tugged the blanket down and peeked over it to see him sitting in the chair by the window. "I mean, it turns out that you and me, we're the fire and the oil of the Armageddon. You know, on that basis alone, we should just pick a hemisphere. Stay away from each other for good." He paused while Sam said something.

"Yeah, you're right," he said. "We can fight it." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "But not together. We're not stronger when we're together, Sam. I think we're weaker. Because whatever we have between us—love, family, whatever it is—they are always gonna use it against us. And you know that." He leaned back and looked up at the ceiling, tears glistening in his eyes. He closed them and took a breath. "Yeah, we're better off apart," he said, opening his eyes again, fixing them on the ground at his feet. "We got a better chance of dodging Lucifer and Michael and this whole damn thing, if we just go our own ways." He paused again while Sam said something. Then he said, "Bye, Sam," and flipped the phone closed. He closed his eyes and pressed his hand against his mouth.

Angry now, I pushed back the covers and got out of bed. He opened his eyes and the second he saw me, his face closed, all his emotions going back behind his mask. "Jessie, go back to sleep," he said.

I ignored him and stalked over to where he was sitting. I stood in front of him and planted my fists on my hips. "That was Sam. Dean, if he wants to come back, you have to let him!"

Dean stared at me, his brow furrowing. "Little girl," he ground out. "You are a child. You have no clue what you're saying, what could happen."

"Neither do you!" I interrupted, unable to contain myself. "You don't know! You're only guessing and it's stupid. It's because you're mad and hurt…"

"Jessie!" Dean snapped, standing up, his face thunderous. My mouth shut of its own accord and I flushed hotly, but I didn't stand down. "Go to bed. Now." He pointed at the roll-away, and when I didn't move right away, he turned me by the shoulders and hustled me over to it. I climbed into without much choice, his hand boosting me up on top of the covers. He yanked them back from under me and then pulled them over top of me.

"I want Sam," I demanded when he turned away, my hands in fists around the covers. "I miss him. You're just being stubborn!"

Dean turned back around and raised his brows at me. "Yeah? Do you want a spanking too?" he asked.

I glared at him. "No," I said sullenly, aware that he was shutting me down and unable to do a damn thing about it.

"Not one more word," he warned. "Lie down, close your eyes, go to sleep."

Pouting and still angry, I lay down and slid further under the covers. "It's not fair," I grumbled quietly, turning onto my side so could see him. "What would Bobby say?"

"Sleep, little girl," Dean said. He watched me for a second and when I didn't say anything, he sat down on the end of his bed and flipped his phone open.

I opened my mouth to say something else, but Zachariah appeared and touched Dean's forehead, and Dean was gone.


	14. Chapter 14 - The Future is Now

I flung myself out of the bed and onto Zachariah, fists flailing. "Bastard! Mother fucker! Where did you send him? Where is he?"

Zachariah moved his arm and I landed on the floor, hard. "Shut up, little pyromaniac," he said dismissively. He closed his hand and suddenly I couldn't speak, couldn't move. "I sent him five years in the future. He'll be back in a minute."

* * *

**August 2014**

The alarm clock clanged and I slammed my hand down on it, hard. It shut up and fell to the floor. Next to me, Cas groaned and rolled over, clutching the covers tightly to his chest. My head ached as usual, but I stretched and slid my arms under the blankets and around his bare waist, pushing my body up against his, naked skin against naked skin. He made a happy noise and smiled without opening his eyes.

"Morning, my angel," I whispered into his ear.

"Morning, my smart, beautiful, good girl," Cas murmured back, opening his eyes to look into mine and rolling towards me, his arms open to pull me to him. Uncomfortable with the compliments, I flushed and pushed away from him, frowning.

"Don't say that," I muttered, sliding to the edge of his huge bed and pulling on my sweats and shoes, my back to him.

I felt him sit up in bed and heard his frown as he said, "It's true."

"Don't say it anyway," I whispered, standing up and pulling on a t-shirt. I turned to see him bare-chested and sleep-tousled, the red-velvet covers puddled over his lap. He was so gorgeous and good. I didn't deserve him. On the bedside table was a bottle of whiskey and a used shot glass. I poured myself a shot, tossed it back, and smiled at Cas. He smiled back. "When are your acolytes coming by?" I asked him as I twisted my long red hair into a knot at the nape of my neck and secured it with a hair tie.

"Couple of hours," he rumbled at me. I looked around the room at the mess we'd made the night before. Clothes, blankets, empty beer cans, a half-empty vodka bottle, and a scattering of pills were strewn about the rug. That's where we'd started. I smiled a little.

"You should probably get this place cleaned up before they get here, then," I said. I poured myself another shot, gulped it down, and headed towards the door.

"Ha ha. Where are you going?" Cas asked as I opened the door to his cabin. I paused and turned to see him pouting.

"Training, like usual," I said flatly. "Dean's orders." I turned to go out the door through his bead curtain, but then popped my head back in. "Enjoy your orgy," I said to Cas with a smirk and shut the door behind me.

Camp Chitaqua was just starting to stir as I headed out to the lake for my morning run. The dark, starry sky had started to brighten in the east, turning the tall pines into silhouettes. Some of the cabins had flickering lights in the windows and people were silhouetted in their tents. I ran past them at a light jog. We'd settled here after Lucifer and the demons had released the Croatoan virus a couple years ago. It was our base camp, and we'd had a lot more people then. I lengthened my stride and cleared my mind. I knew Dean was on a mission this morning to go retrieve the Colt from the demons. He hadn't wanted me on it, which had pissed me off. I'd argued with him in front of the guys he was taking and he'd pulled me off to the side to tell me that he didn't want to risk losing me on this mission when he needed me as the back up plan in case the Colt didn't work. I'd jerked away from him and fled to Cas's cabin, again.

When I finished my run, the obstacle course was next with push ups, sit ups, pull ups, and squats. Then, the fire pit. I didn't need fuel for my fire any more, and I didn't need to empty my furnace, but I loved to practice. I spent a long time standing in front of the pit, directing my flame, lighting some parts, putting out others, small tendrils, big tendrils, all winding around themselves in a huge knot. I formed flame needles, scissors, knives, and swords. I shot fireballs and fire bullets and burned intricate patterns into bark. Each skill built on the last, pleasure flowing through me, building and building as I moved through one form into the next, my fire unleashed into a stream and then a whirlwind, the pleasure flowing through me, over me until it peaked and died away. Gasping, I pulled the flames back into me and locked my furnace, my knees a little weak. I sank to the ground, pulled my knees to my chest, and buried my head in my arms. Silence surrounded me and I soaked it in.

I spent a lot of time alone these days, my abilities and my relationship with Dean separating me from the rest of the survivors. I told myself I preferred it that way, but it would have been nice if Dean spent more time with me. I could count the number of hours he'd spent with me this week on one hand. I shoved away the lonely feelings. Dean was the leader. He was too busy to screw around with taking care of me. I was seventeen. I should be taking care of myself. Hadn't he told me that enough times?

I got to my feet. I was disgusting, covered with sweat and soot from the smoke and fire. I headed to the showers. It wasn't until I was drying off that I realized that I'd left my duffel in Cas's room. I had no clean clothes, and there was no way I was putting on those disgusting sweats again. Swearing and feeling guilty, I wrapped the towel around myself, bundled up my dirty clothes, and headed across the camp towards the cabin. I was going to end up interrupting Cas's orgy.

But when I got there, the four women, or as I termed them, acolytes, were leaving the cabin in a group, fully dressed and not tousled at all. Confused now, I slowed as I climbed the steps. I could hear Dean's voice and frowned. I hadn't seen his jeep by our cabin… I'd thought he was still out on his mission. I climbed the steps slowly.

"Cas, we've got to talk," I heard Dean say.

"Whoa. Strange." Cas sounded bemused. "You...are not you. Not now you, anyway."

Relieved, Dean said, "No! Yeah. Yes, exactly."

Curious, I reached the open door and slid my hand slowly through the bead curtain, pulling it back quietly so they didn't know I was there. I slipped in as Cas asked Dean what year he was from, and Dean told him 2009, that Zachariah had sent him forward in time. Past Dean's back was to me and I stared at him, unsure what to do. I noticed vaguely that Cas had cleaned the cabin and lit candles.

"Interesting," Cas said.

Past Dean sounded annoyed. "Oh, yeah, it's friggin' fascinating. Now. Why don't you strap on your angel wings and fly me back to my page on the calendar?"

Cas laughed and turned away from him. "I wish I could just, uh, strap on my wings, but I'm sorry, no dice."

"What, are you stoned?" Past Dean asked.

"Uh, generally, yeah," Cas admitted, smiling.

Past Dean was taken aback. "What happened to you?"

"Life," Cas said.

"Uh, Cas?" I said. "I hate to interrupt, but I left my duffel here."

Past Dean whirled around and his eyes widened at the sight of me. "Jessie?" I watched his eyes rake from the top of my head to my bare feet,pausing at bullet scar on my collarbone, the flame tattoo over my heart, the stabbing scars on my right forearm and right thigh, the slashing scar on my left shin. He looked stunned and appalled. "What happened to you?"

Heat spread through me. I couldn't remember the last time my Dean, the one from now, had paid that much attention to anything about me, much less expressed concern. I flushed and pushed past him on my way to Cas's bed. "I grew up," I said. "Oh, and the apocalypse." Dropping my dirty clothes onto the floor, I crouched down and pulled my duffel out from under the bed. When I stood back up, Past Dean was still staring at me. Embarrassed, I slipped behind a screen that Cas had in the corner to get dressed, but I could still hear them.

"Jessie is Dean's powerhouse," Cas said. "She's his back up, his enforcer. When Dean needs to go in with a lot of strength, he takes her."

"What does that mean? You mean, she uses her abilities to kill people?" Past Dean asked, horrified. I finished pulling on my clothes and came back out to fetch my shoes.

"The infected, mostly," I said, my voice dull. I sat down on the bed to slide my shoes on. "You know, they like to kill us. Seems only fair."

"That's not right. You're what?" He paused for a second, doing the math. "Seventeen? You shouldn't be killing people. You should be in school…"

"It's the apocalypse. There is no school. We're protecting the uninfected and fighting the demons. It's not like we had a choice," I pointed out again, standing up. "When did you start hunting monsters? It's the same thing."

"I was way older than seventeen," Past Dean pointed out. He looked really concerned. I flushed again, unsure what to do, pleased with his attention but also guilty for liking it. I felt like I was betraying my Dean.

The rumble of approach vehicles interrupted us. I shoved my dirty clothes into my duffel bag and slung it over my shoulder before heading out the door. Past Dean and Cas followed. We watched the two trucks pull up. My Dean and his crew of men, Yaeger, Steve, and Patrick, all hopped out. As we made our way down to them, my Dean passed out beers and the four of them all popped them open to take a drink. It was the normal routine at the end of a successful mission. But then, my Dean pulled a gun and pointed it at the back of Yaeger's head. I knew what was coming and why, but Past Dean didn't. He hollered out a warning while my Dean pulled the trigger. Yaeger fell to the ground, dead.

Past Dean looked shocked. I stood next to Cas and watched, my fingers intertwining with his. It was weird to see anyone upset at death anymore, especially when the person who died was infected. It was generally looked upon as a kindness to kill them before they could hurt anyone they loved.

Faced with two Deans, Steve and Patrick were confused. My Dean swore angrily and turned to them. "I'm not gonna lie to you. Me and him, it's a pretty messed-up situation we got going. But believe me, when you need to know something, you will know it. Until then, we all have work to do," my Dean ground out. Then he turned and stalked towards Past Dean, grabbed him by the jacket, and pushed him towards the cabin that my Dean and I shared. Cas and I followed.

While my Dean shoved Past Dean towards the cabin, I turned to Cas, "Go," I whispered to him. "Dean's not gonna want you here now, and I'm gonna see what's going on."

"He's not going to want you there either," Cas said to me in a low voice, stepping in front of me. "You should come with me."

"I don't care what he wants," I lied. I pushed past him and followed the Deans. As he turned to go into the cabin, my Dean saw me.

"Jessie, what are you, stupid? You have work to do. Get lost," my Dean snapped at me, his face twisted and angry. The words stung.

"But, I want to know what's going on, why he's here," I objected. "And I finished my training and my fire practice…"

"I don't care," my Dean said. "You've got no use here. Go." He pointed towards the shooting range. Swallowing my hurt at being sent away, at his words, I turned to go.

"What the hell, man?" Past Dean asked, his expression upset. "Don't talk to her like that. That's our daughter." My heart lifted a little at the defense. My Dean rolled his eyes and opened the cabin door, shoving Past Dean inside. After a second, I followed and leaned against the doorjamb, trying to make myself as unnoticed as possible. Past Dean was yelling at my Dean about him shooting Yaeger. My Dean was impatiently explaining that the Croats, what we called the people infected by the Croatoan virus, that they'd been fighting, had infected Yaeger and that he was going to flip soon.

"I didn't see the point in troubling a good man with bad news," my Dean ground out.

Past Dean disagreed. "'Troubling a good man'? You just blew him away in front of your own people. Don't you think that freaked them out a little bit?"

My Dean rolled his eyes. "It's 2014. Plugging some Croat… it's called commonplace. Trading words with my friggin' clone, that might have freaked them out a little."

Past Dean rolled his eyes and turned away. "All right, look…" he started.

"No, you look," my Dean interrupted. "This isn't your time. It's mine. You don't make the decisions. I do. So, when I say stay in, you stay in." He turned and walked to the kitchen counter.

Dean's shoulders dropped. "All right, man. I'm sorry. Look, I—I'm not trying to mess you—me—us up here.

"I know," my Dean said. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey and poured two glasses. He brought them over to Past Dean and they drank. A drink sounded like a good idea to me, so I slipped over to the counter and poured my own glass while my Dean explained that he'd gone after the Colt that morning. He explained that the demons had been moving the Colt around for five years, and now he finally had it. My Dean told Past Dean that tonight, he was going to kill the devil.

I took a long draw on my drink, which had more alcohol in it than either of theirs had. Past Dean caught a glimpse of me over my Dean's shoulder and did a double take. "What the hell, little girl?" he burst out, unable to help himself. I jumped at his tone and almost dropped my drink. I hadn't heard that particular scolding tone or been called 'little girl' in a couple of years.

My Dean whirled around but when he saw me drinking he just sighed and held his hand up. "It's ok," he told Past Dean.

"Ok?" Past Dean said in disbelief. "She's seventeen. What is she doing drinking?" He strode over to me and took the drink out of my hand, setting it on the counter and putting himself between me and the alcohol. "When did you start that?"

I snorted in derision. "Remember the summer when you and Sam split, after Sam killed Lilith?" Past Dean nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. "I was having nightmares because of that stupid explosion at the school when I was still fighting with Gabby. I couldn't sleep so I started sneaking drinks to make me sleepy, to block out the dreams, so I wouldn't worry you."

Past Dean stared at me, his mouth slightly ajar, disbelief etched across his face. "I didn't notice?" he asked, his voice strangled.

I shrugged. "You were distraught over Sam and trying to track down the Colt," I said. "You had other things on your mind. Plus, I got really good at sneaking it. I started keeping a bottle of whiskey in the bottom of my duffel. I'd sneak it in the bathroom or behind your seat if we were in the car. You left me alone a lot. It really wasn't that hard…"

Past Dean looked at my Dean. "We didn't stop her when we found out?"

My Dean shrugged. "Didn't find out for a couple of years. By then, there were other things to worry about." He pulled out a chair and sat.

Past Dean covered his face with his hand, dragging it down over his chin. He looked at me. "Do you still have nightmares?" he asked me.

I shook my head, reached around him, and picked up the glass. "I don't dream anymore," I said and took a swallow.


	15. Chapter 15 - Future Shock

I needed a break so I abandoned the Deans and headed back to Cas's cabin, but when I reached the bead-curtained, open door, I heard giggles and moans inside. I stopped with my hand on the doorjamb and dropped my head in defeat. As much as I wanted his comfort right now, I didn't want to face a cabin full of his acolytes all intertwined and learning Cas's "spiritual" lessons. What a bunch of hogwash. I'd come back later when they were done.

I headed to the end of the porch and started down the steps before sinking to sit on the bottom one. I had nowhere to go. My cabin was too full of Dean. I replayed what Past Dean had said - "What the hell, little girl?" and how he'd defended me to his future self. I wrapped my arms around my waist, holding myself tightly. I remembered when he was like that. When he called me little girl and sweetheart and kiddo. When he knew what I was doing. When he'd cared. It had been so long…

Dashing away my wasted tears, I got to my feet and went to find Chuck to get a pistol and some ammo. I needed to shoot something.

Sometime right after dark, Risa found me sitting cross-legged in the grass of the shooting range, twirling the barrel of the revolver over and over. "Hey, kid," she said, staying back aways. "Dean wants us in your cabin for a briefing."

"Which one?" I muttered, twirling and twirling. I'd stopped shooting over an hour ago.

"What does it matter? The one from now," Risa said, sounding pissy. "You coming?"

I stood up and shoved the revolver in my waistband. "Yeah," I said. She led the way to the cabin, her shoulders jerking angrily the entire way. I felt bad for her. "You know, it's not just you," I said to her stiff back. "He does it to everyone."

"What?" she asked, turning to face me, her face twisted with annoyance. She was pretty even when she was mad.

"You're just the most recent," I said softly. "He doesn't make a 'connection' with anyone." I pushed past her and into the cabin, fighting tears, my head down. What the hell was wrong with me? I slunk over to the table and took a vacant seat without looking at anyone, struggling to get myself under control. I just had to sit here and listen to my Dean, and then I could go. I swallowed my emotions, pictured locking them away the way I did with my fire, and looked up. Past Dean sat on the desk in the corner by the door, his feet up on the desk chair. Risa had come in after me and was leaning on the ladder that led up into the cabin's loft, attitude written all over her, her thumbs slung into her waistband. At the head of the table, my Dean leaned on his hands on the table top, staring at the Colt in the middle of the table in front of him. Cas finished pouring himself a drink and came over to sit in the chair at the foot of the table, facing my Dean.

"So, that's it? That's the Colt?" Risa said. Cas looked at my Dean appraisingly and swung his feet up onto the table.

My Dean lifted his head and looked at Risa. "If anything can kill Lucifer, this is it."

"Great," Risa said sarcastically. "Have we got anything that can _find_ Lucifer?"

My Dean looked annoyed. "Are you okay?" he asked. I could tell by his tone that he was asking because he thought he had to, not because he cared.

Risa did a little shoulder roll and opened her mouth to answer, but Past Dean interrupted. "Oh, we were in, uh, Jane's cabin last night," he said. "And, apparently, we and...Risa have a connection." Cas smiled and dropped his head, and Risa looked at Dean expectantly.

"You want to shut up?" my Dean growled. Past Dean raised his hands up in surrender and leaned back. I met his eyes and he winked at me. A little thrill rushed through me and I fought a smile as my Dean said, "We don't have to find Lucifer. We know where he is." My Dean stood up straight. "The demon that we caught last week, he was one of the big guy's entourage. He knew."

Risa looked at him dubiously. "So, a demon tells you where Satan's gonna be, and you just _believe_ it?"

"Oh, trust me, he wasn't lying," my Dean said.

Risa wasn't convinced. "And you know this how?"

No longer smiling, Cas sighed and looked up at her. "Our fearless leader, I'm afraid, is all too well-schooled in the art of getting to the truth." He looked askance at my Dean.

Past Dean leaned forward again, realizing what Cas was saying. "Torture?" he asked. He stood up and took a couple of steps towards my Dean, who was looking down at the Colt. "Oh, so we're torturing again." My Dean looked up at him under a furrowed brow. "No, that's good…" Past Dean continued. He tilted his head a little and winked sarcastically. "Classy." Castiel smirked and let out a chuckle. My Dean glared at Cas.

"What?" Cas asked. "I like past you." I couldn't help but smile, but I tilted my head down so my Dean wouldn't see.

My Dean ignored Cas and pulled out a map. He tossed it on the table in front of him. "Lucifer is here. Now. I know the block and I know the building." Cas and I both leaned forward to look. Even Risa stepped forward to see where the red circle was on the map.

Cas rested one hand on his knee, his elbow bent and looked up at my Dean. "Oh, good," Cas said. "It's right in the middle of a hot zone."

My Dean looked at him. "Crawling with Croats, yeah. You saying my plan is reckless?"

Cas met his eyes. "Are you saying we, uh, walk in straight up the driveway, past all the demons and the Croats, and we shoot the devil?" he asked smoothly.

"Yes," Dean said flatly.

Cas tilted his head. "Ok, if you don't like 'reckless', I could use 'insouciant' maybe."

Dean was unimpressed with Cas's vocabulary lesson. "Are you coming?" he demanded.

Cas sighed in resignation and dropped his head. "Of course," he said and glanced at Past Dean. "But why is he? I mean, he's you five years ago. If something happens to him, you're gone, right?"

"He's coming." My Dean's tone brooked no argument as he snatched up the map.

"Okay," Cas said forcefully, annoyed. He stood up, glanced at me, and then headed for the door. "I'll get the grunts moving." Risa followed.

"We're loaded and on the road by midnight," My Dean ordered, not looking up from the map.

"All righty," Cas said on his way out the door.

My Dean looked at me. "Go do your prep," he said. My heart sank. He was going through with it, his plan for me as his backup. I felt like someone had ripped the core out of me and burned it to soot in front of me.

"Yes, Dean," I whispered and left. Once outside, I walked far enough away that they would both think I was gone and then crawled back to sit under the front window to listen. Past Dean wanted to know why my Dean was taking him and what was going on. My Dean told him that he wanted Past Dean to see Sam, that Sam had said yes to Lucifer in Detroit. My Dean wanted Past Dean to see how bad it had gotten so that Past Dean would make different choices; he wanted Past Dean to say yes to Michael. He insisted that the resulting destruction would be better than what the world was like now. My Dean said that if he could do it over again, he'd say yes in a heartbeat.

Past Dean asked why my Dean didn't say yes now, and my Dean said that he'd said yes until he was blue in the face, but that the angels had left. There was no one to say yes to any more. Past Dean argued that there must be another way, but my Dean said there wasn't. He begged Past Dean to say yes, but then he said that he knew Past Dean wouldn't, because he hadn't; it just wasn't in them.

I crept away from the door, tears dripping down my face. I'd do the prep that my Dean wanted me to do. He wasn't asking me to do anything that he wouldn't do himself. I owed it to him. If it was what he needed from me, it was what I'd do. I headed to the mess cabin to get my bread and salt and then to the fire pit.

Fifteen minutes later, I laid the last log in the pattern for the ritual, a circle of wood, the stick pattern inside as chaotic as open flame that ultimately led to a center pyramid. I hated this part. I opened my furnace and extended four tendrils towards the circle, one for each of the four cardinal points of the compass.

"What's this?" Dean's voice came from behind me. I jerked the tendrils back into me before they touched. Once I started the ritual, I wouldn't be able to stop. I whirled around to see Past Dean leaning against a tree, one foot crossed over the other. I knew that posture. He was trying to lure me in, get information out of me that he didn't think I'd give up easily. I wasn't playing.

"It's a sacrifice to Sacred Gabija," I announced matter-of-factly. "The starting ritual to make my furnace bigger." I gestured towards the sigil as I spoke, looking at the sigil and not at Past Dean. "I set four tendrils, north, south, east, west. Then I push the flame through the circle, connect it to those pieces there, and then in, and in again, and finally, it reaches that pyramid in the middle." I lost my confidence then, my voice faltering. "There's five live rats in a trap under that pyramid," I said, swallowing hard. Like I said, I hated this part. "A live sacrifice for the power to cause more death and destruction…"

Past Dean grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me to him. "Gabby?" he demanded. I hadn't even heard him get closer. His face was thunderous.

"I… I can't call her that here," I said, my voice getting smaller, my shoulders slumping. "She doesn't like it. She'll hear. This is her place."

"You… we didn't kill her?" Past Dean asked. His voice was rough but his hands were gentler now on my shoulders. I stared down at the space between the toes of our boots, the ground bare, nothing growing.

"We couldn't find her," I said to our feet. "And then Sam said yes. Dean, my Dean, thought Gabija would be a good weapon against Lucifer, since we were having so much trouble finding the Colt." Past Dean put his finger under my chin and lifted my head so that he could see my eyes, distressed. I chewed on my lip and continued. "He told me to take off the ring, the one that hid me from her. She came, all thunder and fire. I told her that if she'd help us against Lucifer, I'd be her priestess."

"Oh, sweetheart," Past Dean croaked, tears filling his eyes.

My heart jerked and just about broke. His hands dropped back to my shoulders and I dropped my head down to look at our feet again, the bare ground. "She agreed," I whispered. "I studied under her for three months, if that's what you wanna call it. It was… hell, but the bruises healed." I swallowed and pulled away from him then, unable to handle the feelings coursing through me, the way he was making me feel, like he cared about me. It was a lie. I pulled myself straight and shoved my emotions into my furnace, pictured them burning this time.

Turning my back to Past Dean, I said, "It was worth it for the skill I gained. I'm so much more powerful now, every time I sacrifice I'm more powerful and every fire I set feeds Sacred Gabjia's powers." I hardened my stomach and forced confidence back into my stance, my tone. "It's worth it, even if Dean, my Dean I mean… he never looked at me the same again." I turned again and crossed my arms over my chest. "I've killed hundreds of people, Croats. You can't imagine the power I wield. And each kill I make after I complete this ritual will fill me with more fire, hotter fire."

Past Dean stared at me, like he was seeing me for the first time, his mouth open, his expression aghast. The look on his face mirrored the look on my Dean's face when I'd come back from Sacred Gabija's tutelage and showed him what I'd learned, told him what I'd done. The old wound broke open again, and I struggled not to cry, struggled to be strong. I took a deep breath and soldiered on. "If the Colt fails, I'm the backup plan," I said. "I'm supposed to explode the compound, destroy Lucifer's vessel."

"Kill Sam…" Past Dean murmured. He dragged his hand down his face. "If it doesn't work, you'll die and you'll take everyone with you."

I lost my battle with my tears. They flowed from my eyes in two running streams down my cheeks. "If that's what he needs from me…" I whispered.

"Jessie, sweetheart," Past Dean said, his voice sympathetic. He opened his arms, took a step towards me.

I sucked in a breath. "No!" I said and took a step back holding my hands out in front me, palms out. "Please?" My voice cracked. Past Dean stopped and dropped his hands. "Just let me do my ritual, ok?"

"Jessie," Past Dean whispered. He looked like I had broken his heart.

"Please?" I whimpered. Dean held his hands up in surrender and turned to leave. I turned back to the sigil and opened my furnace.

When I was done, my body was singing with power and I'd never felt so dirty. At least this was the last time I'd ever have to. I stalked through the camp until I found Cas talking to Chuck about supplies for the mission. I pushed between the two and wrapped myself around my angel. His arms closed around me.

"Hi Jessie," Chuck said.

"I need you," I whispered into Cas's wide chest, ignoring Chuck. "Now."

"Jessie," Cas started. "Dean needs…"

"Please, Cas. I can't…" A shudder ran through me. I buried my head against him, trying to touch all of him with all of me. Another shudder and I fought sobs.

"Ok, ok, my good girl," Cas whispered, giving in. "Chuck?"

"I got it. It's just supplies. You covered everything else. I'll tell Risa."

Cas nodded, scooped me into his arms, and carried me to his cabin.


	16. Chapter 16 - The Future's End

Once in his cabin, Cas put me on my feet. I stripped off my clothes while he poured some absinthe. We drank, and then I stripped off his clothes and wound myself around him. He let me do whatever I wanted to him, drowning myself in his body, his presence, his attention. He responded, but made no moves of his own, almost as if he were afraid of scaring me off. When I was ready, I climbed on top of him. Almost frantic in my need to lose myself, to forget, I didn't notice when the bead curtain rustled.

"What in the god damn hell is going on here?" Dean roared. Startled, I rolled off Cas, clutching his bedding around my body. Past Dean stood in the doorway, his body stiff with shock. Anger suffused me. I slid off the bed, leaving the sheet for Cas but still clutching the red velvet bedspread over my breasts.

"Get out!" I yelled at him, grabbing the pile of clothes from the floor and disappearing behind the screen.

"Cas! She's seventeen!" Past Dean said.

"I'm well aware of her age," Cas replied. I pulled on my jeans and came out to find Cas getting dressed. I sat down to pull my shoes on.

"Does… do I know?" Past Dean asked, looking and sounding a bit lost.

I had no sympathy for him. Standing up, I stalked over to him and poked one finger into his chest. "I don't know, but you're not going to tell him," I stated. "It's not like we're hiding it. He's had months to figure it out." He looked mutinous. Glaring, I shoved past him, hitting him hard in the chest with my shoulder. "Like you have any leg to stand on," I snapped as I stomped towards the door. "How old were you when you started fucking?" I asked, My mouth twisted on the words. I turned to face him, my hand on the doorjamb.

"That's besides the point," Past Dean exclaimed angrily, taking a step towards me. "I wasn't screwing an angel thousands of years older than me. You're still a kid!"

"Fuck you," I snarled and pushed through the bead curtain.

Past Dean came through the bead curtain after me, shoving through it so hard that it ripped from the frame, beads flying everywhere. He grabbed my shoulder and whirled me around. "You're not too old to go over my knee, little girl!" he growled at me.

I yanked my shoulder from his grasp, fighting the rush of emotion I felt from the simple phrase, and pushed forward until I was right in his face. "You haven't cared enough to do that in years," I accused. Then I turned and ran towards the front of the camp where the convoy was loading up. Behind me, I heard Cas say "It's best to let her go."

Ignoring Risa and Steve, who were discussing things with Chuck, I found the truck that Cas always took when he wasn't driving with my Dean and got into the back seat, staring out the window. My stomach was aching and I wanted to cry so badly, but I fought it. Jesus, one day with Past Dean around and I was more emotional than I'd been in years. It's just, he made me feel like I mattered, like I meant something. Cas did too, even though I always denied it, and that's why I always went to him, but with Past Dean, it was different, deeper, something in my core, some yearning that things could be different.

I sat there and calmed down for several minutes, counting my breaths, but when I saw Chuck, Cas, and Past Dean approaching, I stiffened again. This was not going to be an easy drive.

Cas got in. After Past Dean finished talking to Chuck, he got in. I ignored them both, staring out the window. Cas was calm, relaxed even, as we took off down the road. He pulled a prescription bottle out of his pocket and took a pill. He handed the bottle back to me and I took one before handing it back.

"Let me see those," Past Dean said.

Cas smiled. "You want some?"

Past Dean took the bottle and read the label. He looked at Cas like he was appraising him, disapproval and disbelief in his expression. "Amphetamines?"

"It's the perfect antidote to that absinthe," Cas said in a satisfied voice. Cas glanced back at me, but I didn't meet his eyes, so he turned back to driving. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked back out the window.

Past Dean looked confused and a little concerned. "Don't get me wrong, Cas," he said after a second. "I'm happy that the stick is out of your ass." Cas nodded in agreement and Past Dean continued. "But what's going on with the drugs and the orgies and the love-guru crap?" Cas started laughing halfway through the question, his head tossed back in genuine amusement. "What's so funny?" Past Dean asked.

"Dean, I'm not an angel anymore," Cas said. "I went mortal."

Past Dean looked really confused now. "What do you mean? How?"

"I think it had something to do with the other angels leaving. But when they bailed, my mojo just kind of…sheewww… drained away." Cas said. "And now, you know, I'm practically human. I mean, Dean, I'm all but useless. Last year, broke my foot, laid up for two months."

"Wow," Past Dean said.

"Yeah," Cas replied.

"So, you're human. Well, welcome to the club."

"Thanks," Cas said. "Except I used to belong to a much better club. And now I'm powerless. I'm hapless, I'm hopeless. I mean, why the hell not bury myself in women and decadence, right?" Past Dean glanced back at me. I didn't meet his eyes either; my gaze firmly locked on the trees flashing by outside the truck. "It's the end, baby," Cas continued. "That's what decadence is for. Why not bang a few gongs before the lights go out? But then that's, that's just how I roll."

"Jessie's one of those gongs?" Past Dean asked, his tone going quiet, dangerous. My stomach tightened and I resolved not to say anything. I just needed to get through this trip. It didn't matter what Past Dean thought, I told myself. He wasn't sticking around.

"Of course not," Cas said firmly. He looked in the rearview mirror at me and gave me a little smile. I tried to smile back, but couldn't. I stared back out the window.

"Of course not?" Past Dean said, his voice getting angry. "I saw you. You're taking advantage of her, Cas. There's no way that she's mature enough, especially after all she's been through…"

"I'm not taking advantage of her, Dean," Cas said quietly, interrupting him. "If anyone is using anyone, she's using me." I felt sick at his words. I cracked the window open, cool air blowing in across my face.

"What?" Past Dean asked. "How is that even possible?"

Cas looked in the rearview mirror again, his face serious this time. Past Dean glanced back at me and then at Cas again. "She's broken," Cas said softly, gently. "You remember that woman that you took me to at that brothel, the one whose father ran away because he hated his job at the post office?"

"Yeah?" Past Dean said, puzzled and impatient.

"You said she had daddy issues," Cas said. "Jessie has more."

"Gabby," Past Dean said. It wasn't a question.

Cas nodded once. "When she got back, when he saw what Gabby did to her, he couldn't face the guilt he felt, so he pushed her away. He let one thing after another get between them until she was basically all alone. She tried to fight it. She tried misbehaving, doing everything he didn't want her to, disobeying his orders, but nothing. So then she tried being good, doing everything exactly as he asked, when he asked, how he asked, but nothing. It didn't matter what she did, so she stopped trying." He looked back at me again. I wondered vaguely if he could see the tears in my eyes in the dark. "But she still wants his approval and at the slightest interest or notice from him, she's right there, doing exactly what he wants, for just that brief second of approval." He held up his fingers, a sliver of space between them.

We sat in silence for a second and then Cas continued, "I'm not using her, Dean. If anyone is using anyone, Jessie's using me."

I closed my eyes, chewed on my lip, and wished that he wasn't right.

"I love her, Dean. I would do anything for her," he said. "But she doesn't love me. She comes to me for comfort, to lose herself, to hide from what she thinks she's become." I stared out the window and wished I could be mad at him for what he was saying, but I couldn't because it was true. My angel had always been able to see right through me. Cas looked at Past Dean and spoke as kindly as he could. "Jessie isn't capable of loving anyone now, especially not herself. My good girl can't see anything in her but bad."

"And I did that to her?" Past Dean asked, his voice tight, strangled. I looked up to see tears in his eyes.

Cas nodded. I pulled my knees to me, gave up, and cried. Past Dean reached back and took my hand, and I let him.

We reached Kansas City as the sun came up. I'd fallen asleep in the back seat after a couple of hours, exhaustion and stress finally getting to me. Cas woke me up and I shook off the sleepiness and took another one of Cas's pills. All six of us were heavily armed. Of course, where they had guns, I had my fire. My Dean led the way through the destroyed streets, which should have been filled with Croats, but they weren't. The streets were empty. There was no way this wasn't a trap. The demons and Lucifer knew we were coming.

We reached Jackson County Sanitarium, where my Dean said Lucifer was staying. As we crouched outside the place, hidden from view by the wreckage, my Dean used his binoculars to search the outside of the building to find an entry point. He said that the second floor window was where we should go in. Risa asked if he was sure, and my Dean said that they wouldn't see us coming. He ordered a weapons check and said we'd move in five.

Past Dean looked unconvinced and angry. He insisted on talking to my Dean. They moved away from the group, disappearing behind a bunch of bushes and trees further away from the fence. I glanced at Cas and crept closer so I could hear them, staying low to try to stay out of their notice. I settled crouching by a tree. Past Dean accused my Dean of lying, said that he could tell because he knew his own lying expressions. My Dean denied it, but when Past Dean threatened to go to the group. Then my Dean acquiesced and told Past Dean that this was clearly a trap. Past Dean said that we couldn't go in the front then.

Without taking his eyes off Past Dean, my Dean suddenly said, "Jessie, get back to the group and do your weapons check."

Caught, I stood up and glared at him. "I have as much right to know as he does," I said. "And exactly how much checking do I need to do to make sure I can still set fires." I opened my furnace and set the bush at my feet on fire. "Oh, I guess it works," I snapped.

My Dean leveled a gaze on me that would have sent me scurrying to do his bidding five years ago. Now, I felt nothing at all, but I also knew that standing there would get me nothing. He wouldn't finish his conversation until I left. I sucked the flame back into me, and turned to stalk back to Cas.

"Find out anything?" Cas asked me, settling his gun at his side.

"Yeah, our Dean is a dick," I said, sitting down next to him on the ground.

"We already knew that," Risa said. I snorted. A minute or two later, my Dean emerged from the bushes.

"Jessie, you're with me," my Dean said. "Move out."

"Wait," I objected, worried. "Where's the other you?"

"Wouldn't listen to orders so I had to knock him out. He'll be fine. Let's move."

We moved in a group towards the second floor window that my Dean had indicated. Risa went in first, then Steve, then Cas. The sound of a firefight started up inside as I jumped up to grab the windowsill.

"No," my Dean said. "You come with me."

"But, Cas…" I objected, dropping back to the ground.

"Decoys," my Dean stated flatly. "Come on." He turned to head around the side of the building.

I stared at his back. "You unbelievable bastard," I said slowly. "You're sacrificing them."

"I'm sacrificing all of us," my Dean said with no emotion. "Lucifer needs to die. Now, are you coming?"

I glanced up at the window, thought about Cas, and closed my eyes in defeat. I'd promised… anything he needed. "I'm coming," I whispered and followed my Dean. We moved around the outside of the building, through wreckage and overgrown pathways.

When we came around the corner in the dilapidated garden, Lucifer, wearing Sam's body, was waiting for us, surrounded by broken statuary, pillars, and benches, clearly he knew we were coming. Shocked at seeing Sam for the first time in years, I stumbled to a halt, my breath catching in my throat, feelings I didn't know I had rising up inside me.. My Dean, though, as soon as he saw Lucifer/Sam, he pulled the Colt, aimed, fired, but Lucifer didn't even flinch. He knocked my Dean to the ground. By then, I'd gotten myself under control. Knowing I was the last resort, I opened my furnace and pushed towards him. I didn't bother with finesse, with tendrils and skills. I wanted him dead, gone, fast. I poured my fire into him.

Lucifer laughed and the sound hurt me, the sound of Sam's laughter. I hadn't heard it in so long. He smiled and just absorbed it, took it into him, locked it away. "If all the fires in Hell don't burn me, what makes you think yours can, little girl?" Lucifer mocked.

My heart twisted at his chosen term of endearment. He took two steps towards me, pulled his arm back, and backhanded me to the ground. My Dean tried to get to his feet, but Lucifer knocked him back, and put his foot on his neck, twisted his ankle, and snapped his neck right as Past Dean came around the corner.

"No," I screamed, clamoring to my feet, but my furnace was empty and I had no gun. There was nothing I could do.

"Yes," Lucifer said, suddenly behind me. His hand were on my cheek and chin, my neck jerked to the side, I heard a sharp popping noise, and then everything went dark. My last thought was that somehow I'd thought having my neck broken would hurt more.


	17. Chapter 17 - Out of the Bag

_**AN - Hello! I made a couple of updates to the last chapter because I forgot to include a couple of things. Specifically, I added a few sentences to the last three paragraphs or so. They aren't terribly important, but I wanted to let everyone know I did that.**_

_**Thanks again for reading and for reviewing. Glad you guys are enjoying the story! **_

* * *

**August 2009**

Zachariah was right; about a minute later, he disappeared, freeing me from immobility. I'd barely scrambled to my feet and opened my furnace when Zachariah and Dean reappeared suddenly, Dean's back to the sink in the kitchenette and Zachariah facing him. Dean looked distraught and angry, struggling to pull himself together. I locked up my fire again and flung myself at him, wrapping my arms around his waist. His arms closed around my shoulders tightly as he said to Zachariah, "Oh, well, if it isn't the ghost of Christmas screw you."

Zachariah's voice as almost sympathetic in response. "Enough. Dean, enough. You saw it, right? You saw what happens. You're the only person who can prove the Devil wrong. Just say yes."

"How do I know that this whole thing isn't one of your tricks? Huh? Some angel hocus-pocus?" Dean growled out. I could hear despair in his voice and tightened my hold on him.

"The time for tricks is over," Zachariah said smoothly, confidently. ''Give yourself to Michael. Say yes, and we can strike, before Lucifer gets to Sam, before billions die."

Dean tugged on the shoulder of my pajamas, and I let him go. He turned away from both of us and walked further into the room, his back to both me and Zachariah. His shoulders were tight and I worried that he was seriously considering saying yes. He couldn't actually be considering that, could he? I shoved past Zachariah as Dean took a deep breath.

"Nah," Dean said firmly but a regretfully. I slid my hand into his and turned to face Zachariah with him.

"'Nah?'" Zachariah asked, his expression growing angry. "You telling me you haven't learned your lesson?"

Dean's voice hardened, losing the regret and sadness that had been there seconds before. "Oh, I've learned a lesson, all right, just not the one you wanted to teach."

Zachariah's chin went up. "Well, I'll just have to teach it again!" he said, stepping towards us. I opened my furnace. "Because I got you now, boy, and I'm never letting you…"

And then we were facing an empty road lined with pine trees and streetlights. I blinked, getting my bearings. Dean dropped my hand, turned around to look behind us, and let out a relieved sigh. "That's pretty nice timing, Cas," he said gratefully. I locked up my fire and turned to face him, too.

"We had an appointment," Cas said with a little smile.

Dean's face softened and he stepped forward, putting his hand on Cas's shoulder. "Don't ever change," he said, his voice tinged with emotion. I looked from him to Cas and back and wondered what the hell Dean had seen in 2014.

"How did Zachariah find you?" Cas asked.

"Long story," Dean said, pulling out his phone. "Let's just stay away from Jehovah's Witnesses from now on, okay?"

Cas watched Dean dial the phone with a confused look. "What are you doing?"

"Something I should have done in the first place," Dean said and put the phone up to his ear. He waited for a few seconds and then said, "Sam?" He turned and walked away from us, down the road.

I looked up at Cas. "So… how do we get the car and all our stuff that was in that room. Won't Zachariah be waiting for us to come get it?" Cas disappeared, and a moment later, was back, my duffel and Dean's at his feet. "Thanks, but what about the car?" I asked, wrapping my arms around me. It was cold and I was barefoot.

"I will take you to the car," Cas said. "And Dean will drive it away."

"But Zachariah could be waiting… can't you just bring it to us?" I asked, keeping an eye on Dean. He'd turned around and was coming back towards us, his head still bowed as he talked to Sam.

"No," Cas said. "But I will make sure it's safe before we go."

Dean had flipped closed the phone and was striding towards us now. I shivered and shifted from one foot to the other. Then I got an idea. I opened my furnace just a little and my chill melted away. I'd never need a coat again. I glanced at my hands. I wasn't even glowing.

"I called Sam," Dean said. "He's meeting us by the bridge in a few hours." My eyes got wide and I flung myself into Dean's arms. He caught me and held me tight.

"Thank you!" I said, squeezing him as tight as I could. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"Ok, little girl, calm down," Dean said with amusement, then he tilted his head a little to the side and really looked at me. He brushed the bangs back from my face and tilted his head the other way. Then he unwound my arms from his waist and crouched down in front of me. I blushed, uncomfortable with his scrutiny. "You know you can tell me anything, right, Jessie? And that I'd do anything for you?"

This subject was making me uncomfortable, but I wasn't sure why. I chewed my lip and squirmed a little. "Yes?" I said.

"I mean it, absolutely anything, and you'll always be able to. I promise you," Dean said, looking me in the eyes. When I tried to look away, he caught my chin in his hand and didn't let me. "Do you have anything you want to tell me?"

There was so much I wanted to tell him, about the nightmares and the alcohol, the frantic need to find Gabby. I hated that I'd been keeping that from him, but when I opened my mouth, the word that came out was, "No."

He looked disappointed. It hurt me and I wasn't sure why. Then he let go of my chin and touched my forehead. "You feeling ok, sweetheart? You're running a fever, even for you."

I slammed the furnace shut. "Nope, I'm fine," I said.

He pulled me to him then and kissed my forehead, hugging me to him. "I love you, sweetheart, and I always will. Never forget it."

I wrapped my arms around his neck and let him hold me. He was so warm and he smelled so good, safe, comfortable. "I love you, too," I whispered in his ear and kissed his cheek.

* * *

When Dean was ready, Cas checked the area by the motel and then took us to the car, putting us right inside it. Dean was ready, started it, and sped away from the motel like it was on fire. He didn't slow down for anything until we'd driven a good five miles. Then he shoved his duffel bag into the back with me and looked at Cas. "Thanks again, Cas."

"You're welcome," Cas said.

"Before you go, can you do me a favor?" Dean asked. "Put Jessie to sleep again."

"No!" I objected, sliding forward and putting my elbows on the seat back. "I want to be there when Sam shows up."

Dean glanced askance at me, "Seat belt," he said shortly. I sighed and slid back again, wrapping the seat belt around my waist. Dean watched me in the rearview mirror and when I looked up, he caught my eyes. "And I want you to get some good, solid sleep. Which one do you think matters more to me?" I looked away, not bothering to answer. When I didn't say anything after a minute, Dean said, "Cas?"

Cas twisted around in his seat. "You may want to lie down," he said.

"It's like living in a police state," I muttered.

Cas looked confused. "I do not understand. How does sleeping…?"

"God, Cas. That's not what I meant, never mind!" I snapped and lay down, using my duffel bag for a pillow and pulling the blanket that we kept in the back seat over me.

"Watch your tone, little girl," Dean warned, and then Cas touched my forehead and I was asleep.

* * *

"… all summer… in the bottom of the duffel…"

"…talked to Bobby… demon… told her to talk to me and you…"

"…Cas… leads on the Colt…"

The sounds of two deep voices rumbling in the front seat woke me. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the back of Sam's shaggy head. I threw off the blanket and practically cut myself in half with the seatbelt before I managed to get it unfastened. I flung myself over the front seat, wrapping my arms around Sam's neck in a huge hug. Sam yelped and Dean swore, the car swerving wildly before Dean managed to get it back under control.

"Damn it, Jessie! Don't do that. Sit your butt back down!" Dean exclaimed. I reluctantly let go of Sam and slid back into the back seat.

"Sorry," I said, abashed. "I didn't mean to scare you." Dean rolled his eyes at me in the rearview mirror and went back to driving.

Sam chuckled and turned around to look at me. "I'm happy to see you, too, squirt."

"I missed you so much, Sam," I couldn't help the whine that crept into my voice. "Are you back for good?"

"Yup," Sam said, smiling at me, but there was a look of concern in his eyes as they flicked over me from top to bottom.

"Yaaaaay!" I said and flung myself back over the seat to hug him again.

Dean was expecting it this time and didn't swerve. "Jessie, what did I just say?" he asked. "Sit, seatbelt, now."

I frowned at him and slid back into the back. "It's been almost three months since I've seen him, Dean. Cut me some slack."

He gave me a sharp look then and looked like he was going to say something, but decided against it. I pouted for a second but was too happy to see Sam, too happy that the two of them had made up to keep pouting.

I spent the next four hours on and off talking Sam's ear off about what happened this summer, trying to get me to tell him what he'd been doing, telling him what I'd done. Periodically, Dean would interrupt to answer a question, but mostly he just let me talk and he listened. Sometime around six in the evening, after I'd lapsed into nonsense questions just so I could keep talking to Sam, Dean decided he'd had enough of driving and pulled into a little motel with a restaurant attached. The motel was called "Over-Easy Inn" and the diner was "Sunny-Side Up Diner". The office had a huge rooster on its roof, and our room had a plaque of a chicken sitting on a nest above the room number. Inside, the room was done up in a theme of white, red, and yellow, and a strip of wallpaper border with chicks, chickens, roosters, and eggs went around the top of the room. The two beds were white with yellow pillows. The cleaning service had thoughtfully set the pillows in the middle of the beds so that the beds looked like huge, rectangular eggs. The carpet was the color of Teflon.

"Someone is obsessed," I muttered and set my duffel down on the floor by the table at the back of the room.

Dean stopped in the middle of the room on his way in and did a slow turn, taking in the place. I watched him with amused eyes. After a second, he stopped and looked at me. "Where's the bacon?" he asked deadpan. I giggled.

The motel people were going to bring by a roll-away as soon as they dug it out of the storage closet. I could only hope that there were no bugs, or worse, spiders. A half-wall divider jutted out into the room about six feet, splitting the part of the room with the beds in the front from the back of the room with that had basically a small "living area." The red-checked diner table and yellow and white chairs were in one half of the living area with a sandy-brown couch facing away from it towards an old television, basically splitting the area in half. The door to the bathroom was right across from the divider. I dropped onto the couch and started taking my sneakers off.

"Nope, don't do that," Dean said, stopping me on his way into the bathroom. "We're heading out to the diner for some grub."

I looked after him as the door shut and bent down to retie my right sneaker. "I'm not eating eggs," I said.

Over dinner, Sam brought up my second-least favorite subject ever. "You send in your application for home schooling and schedule picking up next year's books yet?" I paused in the middle of biting into my BLT and looked at him with slightly panicked eyes. He sighed. "I'll take that as a no."

I chewed the bite and swallowed so I could protest. "Hey! I'm twelve! I'm not supposed to remember things like that!"

Sam snorted and pointed his fork at me, the leafy greens at the end of it fluttering. "That fact that that is your excuse means you did think of it and you decided not to remind anyone, didn't you?" he looked meaningfully at Dean, who raised his head from his burger and looked at me.

I flushed. "Maybe," I admitted, hating that Sam knew me so well right at that minute. Sam shook his head, but he looked amused.

"We'll drive through there on our way to the lead Cas got on the Colt," Sam said. "We'll stop and straighten it out."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, thank goodness you're here," I said sarcastically. "How ever did I get along without you?" But then I smiled at him to show him I was teasing.

Sam ignored my comments. "You know, you have to take a test at the end of this year to prove that you're meeting the state requirements for education."

"Great," I said, picking up a french fry. "That'll be the highlight of the year." I could already feel my stomach tightening at the thought.

"Hey," Sam said. He reached across the table and took the hand that wasn't holding the french fry. I looked up into his hazel eyes. "You'll be ok. I wouldn't let you move on to the next grade if you weren't learning. Ok?" I swallowed against the hard knot and nodded. "It's a little less than a year away. Try not to worry about it," he continued.

I smiled at him to reassure him, but I knew that I was going to worry about it. Sam patted my hand and went back to talking to Dean about searching for the Colt. I dropped my french fry on my plate and wiped my fingers with my napkin, no longer hungry. Once of the best things about home schooling with Sam was that there were no real tests. He sometimes ran me through drills or asked me questions or brought something up that we'd covered a few weeks back, and if I didn't remember what he was talking about, he'd review it with me until I did remember, but I didn't have to take tests. The last test I'd taken was when I was in sixth grade and still lived with my parents. I always got so sick the night before. That was not something I missed. I tried to push it out of my mind.

After dinner, we all headed back to the motel room. The front desk had delivered my roll-away bed and set it up between the two double beds. It barely fit,but there was nowhere else for it to go in that half of the room. They'd put one yellow pillow in the middle of my bed, the littlest egg. I disappeared into the bathroom and when I came out, the guys were setting up their laptops at the table. I dropped onto the brown couch and turned the television on.

"Jessie?" Dean said from behind me.

"Yeah?" I asked, not turning around. I pressed the button on the remote, flipping through the channels.

"I need to talk to you, little girl," Dean said in a stern voice. Slightly alarmed, I flipped the television off and turned around to see him standing there, my purple duffel in one hand and my half-empty water bottle of whiskey in the other, his face furious. Sam stood behind him, his hands on his hips with his eyebrows raised. I scrambled to my feet and glanced at the door, seriously considering running.

Shit.


	18. Chapter 18 - Over the Coals

"Don't even think about it," Dean said. He dropped my duffel on the floor and pointed to one of the yellow vinyl-covered chairs. "Sit."

"I think I'm good over here," I whispered.

"One…" Dean said, still pointing. I swallowed hard and moved around the couch to sit in the chair. Dean set the water bottle on the table next to me and then stepped back to stand next to Sam. The two of them stood there and looked down at me, Sam with hands on hips and Dean with arms crossed in front of his chest. I shifted uncomfortably and chewed on my lip, dropping my hands to hold the sides of the chair bottom for comfort.

"Start talking," Dean rumbled.

I dropped my head and looked up at him pleadingly. "What do you want me to say?" I said softly.

Dean dropped his arms and picked up the water bottle, shaking it at me. "I want you to tell me why I found a water bottle half-filled with whiskey in your duffel bag, little girl, and I want to know how long it's been going on." He set the water bottle down so hard, the bottom crumpled a little and it fell over. I glanced at Sam, but he'd settled against the half wall and was watching me with his head tilted, his expression expectant.

"It was the nightmares," I whispered, dropping my eyes to look at my lap. My heart thrumming in my chest, I let go of the sides of the chair and wrung my hands as I spoke. "They were so bad and I kept waking up, and then Sam left with Ruby and the angels took Dean, and I was with Bobby and there was no one to sleep with, and I didn't want to bother Bobby, so I drank some of his whiskey, and I slept with no dreams." I looked up, my eyes flitting between the two of them, looking for understanding. Sam was watching me closely and Dean had one hand on his chin, considering my words. "So, then I only did it when you guys weren't around so that I wouldn't have the dreams when I was alone, but then Sam left," I said, meeting Sam's eyes. "And Dean seemed so…" I glanced at Dean, faltering at his grim expression. "I didn't want to cause you more worry," I said. "So, I took some of Bobby's whiskey when we were fixing up his house. I filled a couple water bottles and kept them in my duffel." I nodded at the bottle and looked back at my hands in my lap. "You never told me I couldn't drink," I mumbled.

Sam made a scoffing noise, but Dean turned his head to the side, looking at me askance, and took a step forward, his eyebrows raised, "Oh?" he said sarcastically, bending down to catch my eye. "We never told you you couldn't drink? So you thought you were in the clear?"

I sensed a trap, but couldn't see where it was. I nodded my head slowly, in for a penny…

"Yes?" Dean asked; his voice hardened and he straightened up. "Then what's with the sneaking? If you were _so sure_ that it would be ok with us, then why hide it from us, sneaking whiskey behind my seat and in the bathroom before bed? Why hide it at all?"

My mouth dropped open and I struggled for an answer. How could he know that? I was so, so screwed. "I wasn't sure…" I started.

"Just admit it, young lady," Sam interrupted from his seat on the half-wall. "You knew we wouldn't want you drinking."

I shook my head and looked away. Dean leaned against the table, crossing his arms back over his chest. He looked like he was settling in for a long haul. I'd seen that expression and posture before. I fought the urge to pull my legs up onto the chair with me and instead wrapped my arms around my stomach and looked at his boots.

"Look at me, little girl," Dean said; so I did. "Where'd you get the idea?" he asked lifting his chin a little, his eyes half-lidded as he looked down at me.

My heart stopped and my mouth opened a little. Oh, no. How much did he know? And how? My mind raced, and I struggled to come up with an answer. If I told him the truth, I was toast.

"Jessie, we know," Sam said, interrupting my thoughts. "So you might as well tell us." My eyes flew to him, and I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach.

"How?" I whispered.

"You told me," Dean said flatly.

"No, I didn't," I objected hotly. "I would _never_ have told you."

Dean looked like I'd slapped him, but he recovered quickly. "Not now you, you from five years in the future told me. Zachariah sent me to a future where Sam said yes to Lucifer and the me in the future was leading a group of survivors. You were one of them, and you were shooting back shots, three, four times a day, and that was just when I was around you." His expression darkened as he spoke, his words growling out of him. "So I asked you when you started, and you told me all about this summer and the nightmares. You told me about the bottle in your duffel." His hand shot out and knocked the bottle away from me. I jumped as it skittered across the table and hit the wall on the other side, falling to the floor. "I didn't believe it, but I checked the next chance I got, and there it was." He stopped and turned to stalk away into the part of the room where the beds were. Dismayed, I watched him with wide eyes until Sam stepped into my gaze.

"We called Bobby," Sam said, looking down at me with his hands on his hips. His jaw was twitching just a little. "He told us about the demon. He told us that he told you to stop and to tell us about it, but you didn't, did you?"

I swallowed hard. They were going to kill me. The only question now was how dead I was going to be when they were done. "No…" I whispered, drawing the word out.

"Why?" Dean asked from across the room where he was looking through the crack in the closed curtains. He twitched the curtains closed again and turned to stride back towards us. He and Sam stood in front of me, an impenetrable wall.

I looked from one to the other. I didn't know what to say and there was no way I was telling the truth, so I just sat there and stared at them, my mouth opening and closing like a fish as I struggled for an answer.

"We're waiting, young lady," Sam snapped.

"I… I don't know," I mumbled.

"Fine, let's talk about the lies, then," Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I didn't lie," I objected, sitting bolt upright in the chair. I did not want lying tacked onto this.

"Lies of omission," Sam said. "You remember? You know as well as I do that sneaking is a lie. We covered that with the dream root and when you were sneaking around to call Gabby. Didn't we?"

"But that's not fair," I whimpered.

"How is it not fair?" Dean demanded. "Explain to me exactly how it's not fair?"

"I couldn't tell you that I was drinking! You'd've made me stop! I had no choice!" I said, standing up. My heart was pounding and I was starting to think I was going to lose this argument, as if I'd ever had any chance of winning.

"That is the point, young lady," Sam said. "You were doing something on the sly that you knew we wouldn't have let you do. That's lying."

I didn't say anything. What could I say? They'd caught me dead to rights, the bottle in the bottom of my duffel, the words from my seventeen-year-old self's lips. Frustration and anger grew in me. Fuck Zachariah anyway for sending Dean forward in time. I rubbed my hand hard over my face.

"Why, Jessie?" Dean ground out. "Why didn't you come to us about the nightmares? Why didn't you stop drinking when Bobby told you to?"

I dropped my hand from my face and stared up at him, mutinous and pissed off. He raised his brows, and I set my jaw, pressing my lips together into a line.

"Fine," Dean said. "The hard way it is." My heart jumped, and I opened my mouth, but it was too late. Dean stepped forward to take my arm and my chance was gone.

He sat down in the chair I'd abandoned, undid my jeans, slid them down, and pulled me over his lap. I kicked and struggled to get away, but he didn't let me. He twisted to wrap one arm around me and held me there, his hand coming down hard on my bare butt. I wailed at the first strike, kicked and yelled with each swat. I pushed against him, tried to wiggle out, but his grip was tight and before long the pain from the swats built to pain I couldn't ignore. I shrieked at the sharp, stinging swats as they landed, until I couldn't help it any more and I started crying. They weren't tears of remorse, but I stopped struggling, unable to keep fighting while I cried. Dean spanked me for a little while longer before pulling my panties up and putting me on my feet.

"Pull your jeans up and get in the corner," Dean growled. I did, stumbling the to corner behind the table. At some point during the spanking, I'd lost one shoe. I heeled the other one off, then leaned my head against the corner and chewed on my lip, staring at the speckled walls. I stood there a while sulking, feeling sorry for myself that I'd gotten caught, and then Dean asked, "You still think this in unfair?"

I knew the "right" answer to that. "No, Dean," I lied, my voice tight.

"You sure?" Dean asked. "Because you seemed pretty certain about it a minute ago."

"Yes, Dean," I said into the corner. I rolled my eyes, knowing he couldn't see.

"Yeah? You still think you had no choice?"

I wanted to whirl around and scream at him, but I didn't. I deserved a medal. "No," I scowled.

"You ready to talk to me about why?" Dean asked.

I wasn't. I wasn't ready to try to explain it to him. They wouldn't understand. How could they? Neither of them was responsible for the deaths of the girls Gabby had failed to turn to priestesses, for the explosion that had killed the kids and nuns, for the fact that Gabby was still free. They didn't carry the guilt; they couldn't understand the dreams. I kept my mouth shut.

"You have until the count of three to start talking or you're going back over my knee," Dean said. He paused, then, "One…" I set my jaw and decided I was so not playing this game. I whirled around and took off for the door, hoping that the element of surprise would lend me some small advantage.

It didn't. Sam's long arm snaked around my waist right as my hand landed on the doorknob. I shrieked in frustration and tried to kick him, but he easily hauled me back to the table and put me down in front of Dean, who just pulled my jeans down again and tipped me back over his knee, his hand coming down hard on my already sore butt. I fought not to cry, but failed, sobbing after the third smack. I didn't fight this time, the tight knot of anger inside easing as he spanked. When he put my on my feet this time, I yanked my jeans up and went to rub my butt, but Dean caught my hands and held them, looking me in eye. "Why?" he barked. "Why did you lie to us, why didn't you tell us how bad the nightmares were?"

I tried to set my jaw, to refuse to tell him, but when he pulled me towards him like he was going to put me back over his knee my reserve failed me. I jerked my head, my face twisting in grief and anger, "You'd've stopped me," I yelled at him. "You'd've stopped me and I need it. I need it! I can't sleep! Even when I'm with you, I can't sleep! Do you know what that's like?" I pulled my hands back from Dean, and stepped back, my arms straight at my sides, my hands in tight fists. "Do you know what it's like not being able to sleep, knowing that when you do, your brain will torture you with just how much you've screwed up? Your every dream dripping with blood, burning with fire?"

Sam touched my shoulder, turned me towards him, his face softening from stern to compassionate. He bent down and put both hands on my shoulders, meeting my distraught eyes with a mix of sorrow and kindness. "Yes," Sam said simply. I burst into tears and Sam pulled me into his arms and let me cry.

While I cried on Sam, Dean stroked my hair. When my tears had calmed to sniffles and Sam let me go, Dean handed me the box of tissues from the bathroom and said, "Go wash your face, sweetheart, and then come back out here." His voice tightened with resolve. "We're not done."

"Yes, Dean," I sniffled, taking a couple tissues from the box to wipe my face. I went into the bathroom, vaguely noticing that the tiles were an egg-like pattern of single yellow tiles surrounded by eight white tiles, and turned on the faucet. I washed my face and blew my nose and washed my face again, splashing cold water on my reddened eyes. I was drained and exhausted, and I was dreading what I knew was going to happen next. I turned the water off and dried my face on the scratchy yellow towels. Then I sat down on the edge of the tub and tried to gather my wits and calm down.

About a minute later, Dean banged on the door. "Stop stalling," he said. I took a deep breath, got to my feet, and opened the door. Dean was waiting on the other side. He put a hand in the middle of my upper back and led me back to the chair of death. Sam had taken his seat on the half wall again. Dean crouched down in front of me and put his hand under my chin. "Listen to me, Jessie," he said quietly and firmly. "We are your family. You should have come to us with this. You should have told us so we could help you fix it. What ever possessed you to think that an idea you heard from a demon was a good idea?"

I flushed, feeling ashamed, stupid. "I just… I didn't want to bother you. You both were struggling so hard, and it just seemed easier to solve it by myself… It was working."

"You didn't want to bother us?" Dean asked. "Or you didn't want to face it?" I shrugged and pulled my chin from his hand. He let me, but he tilted his head so that he could still see my face. He wasn't letting me hide, no matter how badly I wanted to. "It wasn't working, Jessie. You're drinking more now than you were when you started, aren't you?" he asked. I furrowed my brow and chewed on my lip, not answering. "I'll take that as a yes," Dean said. "That's not a real solution, Jessie. You're just avoiding the problem, the guilt you feel. You need to face it."

"It hurts to talk about," I whispered.

Dean gripped my upper arms lightly. "It always hurts to draw the poison out, to stitch up the wound. Sometimes things have to hurt before they heal." While he spoke, Sam slid behind me and set his hands on my shoulders. The weight and heat of their four hands pressed into me, comforting, soothing, accepting.

I shook my head, fighting tears, unbidden thoughts driving up from deep inside of me. "It's too much. You both had so much… You didn't need more from me."

Dean sighed. "Jessie, sweetheart, you are mine, my daughter, my family. Nothing is too much. I will always be here for you."

Sam's hands tightened. "You're never too much, honey. There's nothing that you can do that will make me abandon you or give up on you."

Dean slid his hand back under my chin and lifted it. He brushed my bangs out of my eyes. "You're our little girl, Jessie. You mean the world to both of us. We are here to take care of you, to help you, to keep you as safe as we can. Let us help you when you're hurting. Please?" His voice cracked and there were tears in his eyes.

"Ok," I said, my voice breaking.

Sam ran his hands through my hair, tilting my head back so I was looking up at him. "That's not good enough, squirt," he murmured.

"Yes, Sam," I said, a little stronger this time. Sam let my head go, and I turned to Dean, "Yes, Dean."

"Good," Dean said and stood back up. "As much as it hurts me to say this, you've still got a spanking coming. Not only did you lie to us, but you were drinking when you knew you shouldn't be. Drinking is dangerous. It lowers your reaction times and your inhibitions, and you had no idea how it would affect your abilities."

"But nothing happened," I objected, but as I said it, I remembered the night in the Impala when I'd taken two large gulps instead of one and I'd been glowing on accident, my furnace opening on its own. I flushed.

Dean nodded. "And we don't know if anything would have happened. That's the point, little girl, and I think you know it, don't you?"

I bit my lip. "Yes, Dean," I whispered.

"Get your hairbrush," Sam said, getting up from the wall.

I swallowed hard and got up to dig the hairbrush out of the duffel on the floor. When I turned around, Sam had taken my spot in the chair. I handed him the hairbrush, and he undid my jeans and pulled me over his lap. For once, there was no lecture. I guess he felt that everything had been covered enough. He just yanked my panties down and peppered my bare butt with searing smacks from the hard wood of the hairbrush. I cried from the start until he put me back on my feet. I went to pull up my jeans, but Dean stopped me.

"Lean over the arm of the couch," he said. Alarmed, I turned to see his belt in his hand.

"Dean!" I cried.

"What's the punishment for lying?" Dean asked sternly.

"Double," I whimpered. "But…"

"But nothing. I'm not doubling your punishment because that would be too much, but you are getting the belt, and you can thank the fact that you snuck around behind our backs for three months for that. Couch, now."

I pressed my lips together, biting the insides to keep them that way, and stepped out of my jeans to lean over the arm of the couch. Dean reached forward and tugged my panties down. I stiffened, but didn't object. And then the belt came down in fiery stripes. I clutched at the couch cushions, sobbing into them, unable to count the stripes. Finally, he laid the last burning smack into my skin, and gently tugged my panties up.

He pulled me to my feet and I buried myself against him, hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry," I cried into his stomach. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you and I'm sorry I snuck the whiskey and I'm sorry I drank. You were right, I could've lost control of my fire and it was stupid to do something a demon said…"

"Shh, shh, baby," Dean said. He picked me up and carried me to the couch, holding me in his lap and letting me cry myself out. Sam sat down next to us, rubbing my back while I cried against Dean's shirt. "You don't know what we do and don't understand, sweetheart," Dean murmured into my hair when I'd mostly stopped crying.

Sam pulled me into his lap then, and I wound my arms around his neck, my fingers wrapping into his hair. "You won't know unless you come to us," Sam said. "And even if something happens that we don't 'get', we'll do our best to understand. We'll always try to help you. Ok?" I tightened my hold on his hair and nodded. He hugged me tightly to him.

Dean got up then and went to the beds. I watched him with blurry eyes as he pulled back the blankets on the bed and put the pillow where it belonged. When he'd finished, Sam got to his feet, still holding me, and carried me to the bed. They tucked me in and Dean brought me a glass of water and three pills, two white and one half pink and half white. I took them with a questioning look.

"I don't want you getting a headache," he said. "One of them will help you sleep." He leaned down and kissed my forehead. "We'll talk more in the morning. Get some sleep."

"What about nightmares?" I whispered, my eyelids already heavy.

"Come get one of us," Sam said. He put my snowman next to me. I pulled it into a tight hug.

"Or get into bed with one of us," Dean said. "But no more drinking."

"Yes, Dean," I said and closed my eyes.


	19. Chapter 19 - Martial Law

**AN: I'm so so sorry. I disappeared off the face of the earth for a while, mostly due to an overload of work stress. Anyway, here's the chapter I meant to have written and published two weeks ago. Please forgive me...**

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, the sun wasn't even up yet, and I was plastered to Dean's side, my head in the hollow of his shoulder, my arm and leg sprawled across him. I flushed in embarrassment and rolled away from him. Wait, they'd put me to bed in my own bed last night. I glanced over the side of the bed to the roll-away that was in between the two doubles. The blankets and sheets were twisted and wound around each other at the foot of the bed, the yellow pillow shoved up against the nightstand at the head of the bed. It looked like it had been beaten into submission. Groaning a little, I climbed out of Dean's bed and went into the bathroom. I'd probably had a nightmare and Dean had decided to put me in bed with him so I'd sleep better. It was sweet, but I was almost thirteen and having to sleep with, basically, my dad. Yeah, that was something to be proud of.

When I came out of the bathroom, I felt a little groggy, a little off. I wondered if it was because of the pill Dean had given me to sleep. I stumbled a little on my way over to the table with the laptops on it, accidentally kicking one of the chairs. It scraped the carpet and banged into the table, making the table rock. "Shit," I muttered.

"Jessie, back in bed," Sam grumbled on the other side of the half wall.

"I wanted to search for Gabby," I murmured.

"No."

"But…"

"Don't make me say it again," Sam whispered. "If I have to get out of this bed…"

I squeaked and abandoned the laptops to round the half-wall. Hauling on the sheets and blankets to pull them off the roll-away, I wrestled to untwist them so I could get back in bed.

"Leave that," Sam said, patting the bed next to him. He was watching me with narrowed eyes, his face still soft from sleep.

"Sam," I started, my arms full of wound-up bedding.

"Get in the damn bed," Dean snapped. I jumped about a foot and whirled to find that he hadn't moved except to open his eyes. I dropped the blankets back onto the roll-away and crawled into Sam's bed on top of his covers. Seeming to understand a least a little, he reached over me to tug a blanket from the mess on the roll-away. As I settled next to him, he flicked his wrist and the blanket was magically untwisted. I pulled it over me and rested my head on the pillow.

"Good girl," Sam said and kissed the top of my head. I backed up so that my back was pressed full against him and closed my eyes to go back to sleep.

It was hours later when I woke up to the sound of the motel room door closing as Sam carried in a bag of food. My stomach growled loud enough at the smell of breakfast that Dean looked around his laptop to see what the noise was. Flushing a little, I scrambled off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom before joining them at the table. Both of them had coffee sitting in worn and chipped coffee mugs from the motel's coffee maker next to their laptops, their attention fully focused on whatever was on the screens.

I grabbed the bag of food and reached inside to pull out a Styrofoam box and a Styrofoam cup. The box had scrambled eggs with cheese on top and toast, and the cup was full of milk. I sighed and Sam looked at me over the top of his laptop, which was pushed far enough away from him that he could eat his breakfast without getting crumbs in the keyboard.

"Something wrong?" Sam asked with a slight smile on his face and his eyebrows raised.

"No," I said, looking up at him from under my bangs. "Just…the milk's not chocolate."

"They didn't have chocolate, squirt," Sam said. "But you're going to drink that whole thing, right?"

I picked up my fork. "I guess," I muttered and dug into my eggs. Dean didn't look up at all during the whole exchange, his forehead creased in concentration while he poked at his laptop and ate breakfast, not really worrying about his laptop and crumbs. Sam was probably really glad that Dean had his own laptop now. I finished my breakfast, sucking the milk through a straw even after the cup was empty to make sure that Sam knew I'd finished it, and got up from the table.

"Whoa, little girl," Dean said. He pointed at the chair without looking up. Uncertain now, I sat back down in the chair and put my hands in my lap. Dean didn't say anything else, he just went back to poking at his computer, so I looked at Sam, but he was typing away, paying no attention to me. Worried now that last night's spanking hadn't been the end of my punishment, I just sat there in silence for another five minutes until Dean shut his laptop and met my eyes.

"What?" I asked, unable to keep the petulance out of my voice.

"Now that you've gotten some sleep, we need to talk about the rest of your punishment," Dean said.

"The rest of my punishment?" I asked, aghast. I crossed my arms over my stomach and glared at him. "Last night wasn't enough?"

Dean thunked his elbow into the table and pointed at me, scowling. "You drank and lied to me for three months, put your health and safety in danger, ignored Bobby's instructions, and refused to talk to me or Sam about any of it, either before or after you got caught. What do you think?"

I stood up, shoving the chair back so fast it toppled and fell to the floor. "I told you I was trying to help! I was trying not to bother you!"

Dean stood up just as quick and I stumbled backwards, blanching. "You done?" he growled. "Because we can go another round." Thankful the table was between the two of us, I just nodded. "Then pick that chair up and sit your ass down." Apprehensive, I watched him for a second before obeying, taking a few extra seconds to calm down under the pretense of settling the chair. When I finally sat down in the chair, a good four feet from the table, Dean came around the table and leaned against it, his arms crossed over his chest. Sam got up and got himself another cup of coffee before leaning against the counter, behind and to the left of Dean, one hand resting on the counter top as he sipped coffee from his mug.

"You're on restriction," Dean said. "No laptop, no PSP, and no television."

"But I can still read?" I asked, surprised by that concession.

Sam stepped forward. "Yes, because you're going to need something to do besides training while you're on lockdown until further notice and we don't have your schoolbooks yet."

"No!" I said. "That's not fair!"

Dean's eyebrows shot up and he looked at me askance. "Ya think? Why do we put you on lockdown, little girl?"

I struggled, but in the end, I couldn't help it and burst out, full of resentment and anger. "Because you want me to be even more miserable."

Dean came towards me. Alarmed, I scooted the chair back and back until it slammed into the back of the couch. Dean put both hands on the couch behind my head and leaned down, his eyes flicking between mine. "Do you think this is funny, little girl?" he growled.

"Dean," Sam started. His voice was closer, but I couldn't see around Dean.

"No," I whispered, unable to look away.

"Good. Neither do I." He pushed away from me and turned around so that his back was to me, his shoulders tight with anger. "Answer the question."

I sat there for a second, looking from Dean's shoulders to Sam's frown as he watched Dean and me, unsure of the answer. "Because you can't trust me?" I asked finally, tears welling as I realized what I'd done.

"That's right," Sam said, stepping around Dean. "We can't trust you alone and we can't trust you to tell us what's wrong so we're going to have to keep you near us while we work on that."

"Work on that?" I repeated, feeling dumb.

Dean shrugged his shoulders like he was shoving off a burden, turned around, and leaned against the table again, crossing his arms in front of him. "I did some research on getting a kid over nightmares. You've got some new rules."

"Ok," I said, rolling my eyes and drawing out the word.

Dean frowned at me. "Lose the attitude," he said, and I dropped my eyes again.

"You're going to bed at the same time every night, no matter what we're doing," Sam said and my head snapped up.

"And you're getting up at the same time every morning from now on," Dean added.

"How is that even…" I started, but Sam interrupted.

"Training every day," he said.

"No caffeine, no sugar, and no damned alcohol," Dean snapped.

"You have a nightmare, you're going to tell us. Then you're going to write down the nightmare and we're going to go through it and figure out how to change it," Sam said.

I narrowed my eyes. "Why?" I asked, scowling.

"We're going to figure out how to change the nightmare so that you're in control of what's happening, and then you're going to write that down and read it two or three times a day."

"And just how is that supposed to help? I'm not having nightmares during the day." I glared at him. "That's stupid. I'm not doing it."

"You are doing it," Dean said, dropping his arms and standing up straight. "Or you're going to Bobby's so he can take you to get therapy until you're over this." I felt like I'd been slapped, but Dean wasn't done. "No twelve-year-old should be drinking the way that you were and if the nightmares are why and we can't help you over it, then we're going to have to get you some professional help."

"What about Gabby?" I whispered, my face white.

"That bitch isn't going anywhere," Dean said. "And this is more important. Sam found this therapy and it's supposed to help. So, what's it going to be?"

Frustrated, I wrapped my arms around my stomach. "It's not like I have a choice," I burst out. "It's either this or I'm gone."

My voice broke over the last word, and I hoped that Dean would deny it, but he just nodded his head, frowning. "Choose," he demanded.

"Fine," I said, dropping my head in defeat. "Lockdown, bedtimes, and nightmare essays, I guess."

They both looked relieved, which made me feel a little better, and then Dean said, "Come here," and opened his arms. I went to him and he held me against him tightly, kissing the top of my head. I felt a little better. "Good girl," he whispered.

When Dean let me go, I went to Sam and he hugged me too. "Honey, work with me. I want you to tell me or Dean when you're worrying or when you're feeling guilty."

I unburied my head from his stomach and looked up at him. "What does that have to do with anything?" I asked.

"The sooner you learn to stop bottling that stuff up, the sooner you'll stop having nightmares," Sam said, but I wasn't so sure.

"Get dressed, kiddo," Dean said in his normal, not mad at Jessie for screwing up voice. "We need to hit the road and find the Colt."


End file.
